


White Collared

by mythicaliz



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Office, BDSM, Bladder Control, Blood, Body Worship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Breathplay, Business Trip, Choking, Consensual Violence, Depression, Dom!Link, Eventual Smut, Food Kink, M/M, Office Sex, Punishment, Restraints, Slow Burn, Spanking, Sub!Rhett, Suicidal Thoughts, Whipping, Workplace Relationship, food denial, rhett's round ass in a tight vintage suit, sub space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 67,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicaliz/pseuds/mythicaliz
Summary: It's 1974, and it's a man's world. Charles Lincoln "Link" Neal III is a tyrant who runs his office with an iron fist, and just when it seems he's browbeaten the city's entire supply of administrative assistants, the agency sends over a handsome secretary who not only takes his controlling new boss in stride but welcomes his wrath.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a depiction of a healthy BDSM relationship. Healthy D/s dynamics require a ton of communication and limit setting. These boys can't communicate to save their souls and therefore go through a lot of unnecessary heartache. Don't do like they do!

“Heads up, girls!” Stevie Levigne murmured through lipstick-painted lips across the row of typewriters in the middle of the wood-paneled office. Their chatter ceased, and the clacking of long fingernails on lucite keys filled the room as the beige doors of the elevator parted to give way to the roiling storm cloud that was their boss. His clean-cut jaw was tight as he stomped past the rows of desks in an impeccably tailored camel suit, his knuckles white where he grasped his shiny, leather briefcase as he slammed the heavy door of his corner office shut behind him.

Anyone who worked at Benson, McLasky & Neal needed to be very clear on two facts pertaining to one Mr. Charles Lincoln “Link” Neal the Third: First, he was one of the brightest engineers the firm had ever known and the youngest to make partner. Second, odds were exceptionally unlikely new administrative staff would last more than six hours on the job before he somehow drove them back to the typing pool in tears, penitence for any slip up, no matter how perceivably minor. The entire office knew exactly the sort of man they worked under, and they worked under him cautiously.

Mr. Neal had graduated Class of 1969 from North Carolina State University with honors. It hadn’t even taken five years for him to make partner at Benson & McLasky in Raleigh. A third crucial fact that most of his employees picked up somewhere shortly down the line was that the man was ruthless and tolerated not even a whiff of failure, and that was just the standard to which he held the guy who delivered the sandwiches at lunchtime. As for his secretaries, well, the word “particular” didn’t even scratch the surface.

The poor girl hadn’t even been with the company a day, and already she had that squirrelly look in her panicked eyes. She was young, and Stevie took pity on her, but this latest in a long string of rejected secretaries had botched one too many cups of Mr. Neal’s coffee already, and after her most recent haranguing, she had that same look most of his past assistants usually took at least a full week to develop.

“Margaret!” He barked from inside his office, voice echoing through the wood-paneled and portrait window walls of the open plan building. The door clapped against the wall as he slung it open in his wake. “Get in here! Now!” She flinched, and with eyes downcast, she rose from her seat and meekly scrambled after him, carefully pulling the door shut behind her. Her office-mates, a motley crew of smartly dressed young women and grubby beatnik dudes, instinctively craned their necks. A hush falling over them, their boss’ voice rose in a muffled din through the paneled walls.

“You think he’s gonna skin her alive?” Chase asked blandly, studiously ignoring the spectacle for the stack of transcription sitting between him and his typewriter.

“Either that, or he’s just gonna chuck her out the window,” Ellie wagered with a flick of permed blonde hair, her head still cocked for any sign of apparent homicide from within Mr. Neal’s office. Stevie rolled her eyes and made her way over to the water cooler all the way down by the kitchen. Nothing could possibly be happening in that corner office that was either new or entertaining for her at this point, and judging by the fury writ across her young boss’ brow, she knew exactly what was coming next.

Another one had, proverbially speaking, bitten the dust. 

An hour later, Link Neal was standing behind the abandoned desk just outside his office, glowering at its pen cup and inbox and tan telephone and small brown call box that directly linked to his office, and he sighed. His most recent girl had quit just last week, leaving him unstaffed for days. He had lost his temper with her, but in his defense, she _had_  sent a letter to an important client with several glaring typing errors practically screaming from the page. And now _freaking Margaret_... He wasn’t proud of how he’d chewed her out, but the staffing agency really needed to learn. They had to stop sending him flunkies who constantly made him look like some unqualified undergrad. And the dimwit had had it coming, really.

Stevie sidled up next to him, guiding a steaming cup of coffee into his hands. He took a sip, not looking over at her. The others had gone to lunch early while he stood there like Kubrick’s monolith, no doubt on her orders. So, she just stood there next to him, in that way of hers, silently staring down with him at the vacant desk. He grimaced and muttered, “ _two_  sugars, Stevie.”

“You’re gonna give yourself diabetes,” she chided softly.

“Funny, I didn’t realize I was at a doctor’s appointment,” he bit back. She sighed heavily, long-suffering and saintlike.

“You gotta stop doing this,” she said softly, pressing her fingertips to the desktop. He refused to respond. “This town’s small enough, and your reputation’s beginning to precede you.” He took another sip of hot coffee. “You’ve got a kind of Nixon-esque stink about you now.”

“I’m an important man,” he murmured. “I don’t have time to babysit these morons.”

“Be that as it may,” she said grimly, “the agency only has one temp willing to come work for you right now. Next time, you might not be that lucky.” He glared down at his coffee. Stevie just rolled her eyes and went over to her desk to pick up her bag. “Well, I’m going to lunch. When he gets here, play nice.”

She was already halfway to the lift when her words sank in, and he spun around in alarm. “ _He_?!” She shrugged and smirked at him as the doors began to close between them.

“You brought this on yourself, Neal,” she said, and then she was gone, and Link was left to his own frustrated thoughts. He’d have to sort out this grievous error soon, but in the meantime, whoever the grimy, ancient little toad turned out to be, he swore he’d fire Stevie in a second if the man couldn’t type at least 100 words a minute and make the best cup of coffee of his life.

He needed the refuge of his office for a little while. The thick, white shag carpet was plush under his brown wingtip loafers as he padded over to the rust orange sofa and matching chairs, sinking down almost bonelessly. He entertained the thought of pouring himself a tall glass of scotch from the brass bar by the far window as he took in the mustard walls surrounding him, the large teak desk sitting along the high panel of picture windows, the small drafting table that sat on the other side of the room.

He undid the jacket button of his camel tone three-piece suit and slightly loosened his cream and orange geometric print tie. He tried to rest, but his mind was restless, and his fingers began to itch for something to do. He stalked over to the desk and slid his thumb through the seal of an unopened letter, grumbling at the fact that he had to do his own administrative work until the doddering old fool arrived to pick up the slack. He had a meeting that afternoon with the CEO of a materials firm, and he’d be damned if he had to weather the humiliation of taking his own calls while the man was there. Even if he had to weather the humiliation of his prospective colleague being met by less than the finest piece of ass Raleigh had to offer. Shame that Margaret had to just up and leave like that.

Inevitably, he became lost in his work. When he finally thought to check his Rolex for the hour, he saw that it was already fifteen ‘til one. The others shouldn’t be back from lunch yet, but there was a knock on the door. “Enter!” he called, and the door slowly swung open to reveal a bearded specimen of a man so tall, he nearly crowded the door way. The man wore a grey wool suit that fit his strong frame like a glove. Link had to remind himself how to breathe shortly after his eyes traveled up the man’s lean body, finally meeting with bright grey-green eyes. In a haze, he had half a mind to chew the man out for arriving early for their meeting, but BM&N needed this materials contract, and Mr. Charles Lincoln Neal III was more than willing to play nice with a man who looked that good in a blazer.

“Mr. Johnson, I presume?” He asked as he rose to shake the man’s huge, fine hand. “I apologize for the lack of secretary to show you in, but I find myself short-staffed at the moment.” The tall, bearded man gave a briefly perplexed expression before he sat down in a chair in front of the desk.

“Um, I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” he said in a rush. “My name is Rhett McLaughlin.” He placed his briefcase across his knees as the other man sat back down. Mr. Neal’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he brusquely interjected. “Oh, are you with Staunton? Did Moray send you?”

“I, uh… I’m actually your new secretary.” All the air whooshed out of the room as the man spoke. Mr. Neal wasn’t sure his own mouth wasn’t hanging open.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he choked, reaching for the phone on his desk. He punched in an extension and held the phone to his ear until the other end answered. “I need to see you in my office. _Immediately_.” He shuffled some papers on his desk, stealing brief glances at the striking man across from him until Stevie came in after a perfunctory knock on the door frame.

“You needed to see me, boss?” She asked with a quirked brow, a cigarette dangling from her lips. He motioned for her to shut the door behind her. She did.

“Is this some kind of joke?” He spat, gesturing towards the man sitting patiently before him. Her eyes were hard.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, _Mr. Neal_ ,” she said pointedly, but it was lost on the man.

He turned to Rhett and said through gritted teeth, “Will you please wait outside a moment?” Rhett’s eyes went wide, but he wordlessly complied and hastily exited the highly charged office. “Stevie,” he said with urgently, “I’ll be the laughingstock of the industry. Send him back to the agency immediately.”

“Link,” she sighed, taking a long drag from her Marlboro. “It’s 1974. Things are changing. There’s no shame in having male secretaries.”

“I can live with a male secretary, Stevie,” he hissed, “but not one so… so…”

“Hot?” She smirked, and Link nearly blew a gasket at her remarkable cheek.

“That’s…” He stammered. “That doesn’t concern me in the slightest.” She shook her head as she tried to will away the grin blooming across her face. “He just doesn’t  _look_ like a secretary, and I-”

“I already told you,” she said firmly, “that’s all the agency had, it will take weeks if not months to find someone else. Now, you can figure out whether you want _him_  or no secretary at all, and then you can get back to me.”

“Dammit,” he bit out. “Fine. I’ll take him for now, but the _second_  you get a decent girl lined up, I want him out of here.” She nodded, trying to take this all very seriously, and as she turned to go, he called out, “And you’d better train him personally, because I’ll not have him screwing things up like the last few.”

“Very good, boss man,” she saluted. “I’ll start his training tomorrow, and I'll have him replaced with a girl as soon as a willing candidate is found." She bit back a smirk. "But I wouldn't hold my breath. Now, if that’s all...” He sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in disgust.

“I’m beginning to think I don’t scare you anymore,” he noted in despair.

“You never did.” She nodded curtly and left, and moments later, Rhett was filling the doorway again, standing hesitantly now, unsure what atmosphere he’d be returning to.

“Uh, Miss Levigne said you needed me,” he began. “Is everything alright, Mr. Neal? Anything I can…?”

“Yeah, fine,” he replied, slipping off his tortoise shell glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Okay, listen, Rex. You can stay for now, but I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” He slid his glasses back onto his face. “Just... put your stuff on the desk out there, and uh, here’s some correspondence that needs to be dealt with.” He thrust a stack of sealed envelopes towards Rhett, who rushed forward to take them. “I don’t take phone calls between three and five pm. I take my coffee black, two sugars. Don’t let Bennett in here unless absolutely necessary; she’s a blowhard, and my time is valuable. Keep the disruptions to a minimum. You don’t need to knock to come in, but don’t take that as invitation to bother me. I’m not one for small talk or chit chat. I don’t care what you did on the weekend or what you thought of last night’s episode of _Sanford and Son_. I am not your friend.” He paused for good measure. “You will take your job seriously, or you will find work elsewhere. Is that understood?”

The tirade ended finally and it had left Rhett’s head spinning, tamping down on thoughts of _Jesus, what a piece of work_.

“Crystal, sir,” he answered sharply. “Only... My name is Rhett, sir… not Rex.”

“Fine,” Mr. Neal sighed irritably.

“It happens all the time,” Rhett said with a patient smile as he gripped his briefcase handle. “No need for apology.”

“You weren’t going to get one.”

“Of course, sir,” Rhett said, his smile not slipping a millimeter. “Anything I can do for you?”

“What I’ve just asked you to do would be nice,” Mr. Neal answered irritably as he rose and stalked over to his drafting table. “Close the door on your way out.”

Some time later, Rhett quietly entered the office with the hot cup of coffee (black, two sugars). He placed it on the desk and left as silently as he entered. Mr. Neal glanced at the coffee that had appeared as though by magic, then turned to stare at the door. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

The office would be opening at eight. Rhett had jumped the gun by a solid hour and had already spent a good half of that hour in the driver’s seat of his brown Oldsmobile, fretting over whether to kill the engine and just go jiggle the handles of the nondescript office block. The parking lot was still mostly empty, but when a shiny, sporty little Datsun whipped into a reserved spot near the entrance, he swallowed around a nervous lump in his throat and finally switched off the engine, grabbing his briefcase.

He practically jogged to catch up with his boss, but in spite of the nearly half a foot Rhett had over him, Link had reached the lift quite ahead of him. “Wait! Hold the elevator!” Rhett called as the doors began sliding shut, and the last he saw of his boss was his pursed lips and an exaggerated eye roll. Rhett jammed the up button and cursed when the doors didn’t reopen.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll wait,” he muttered under his breath as he reached with his free hand to smooth his hair up and off his brow. By the time Rhett made it to the tenth floor, his boss was already busy at work digging through a filing cabinet behind the row of typists’ desks, talking to himself under his breath as he flicked through the Manila folders with long, graceful fingers.

“Good morning, Mr. Neal,” Rhett said brightly in spite of himself as the man plucked a couple stuffed folders from the drawer and swung it shut with his hip.

“Ah, Brett,” he said absently as he strolled into his office. “You’re here early.”

“Right,” Rhett replied through ground teeth. “Sir, I was informed that you often come early, so I figured I should be here just in case I could, uh, be of service, I guess. I mean, that’s my job, so… Not that you have to give me work right now or anything, but I was just...” Rhett stopped to clear his throat, not quite sure at what point he’d begun babbling. He felt himself waffling in the doorway while his boss stood feet away giving him the least impressed expression in all of human history. Rhett swallowed hard. “So, uh, can I get you anything?”

“Coffee,” the man snapped, glowering through the doorway at his reluctant secretary. “And if you bring me decaf, you won’t be pleased with the consequence.” He slammed the door shut, and a cold jolt of shock licked up Rhett’s belly. Okay, fine. So, everyone at the typists’ pool had been right: the man was even more of an asshole before his first cup of coffee. He mentally jotted down the note, getting the sneaking suspicion he’d have to get used to this, to Mr. Neal slamming doors in his face. Though chasing on the tail of that thought, he knew he’d be up for the challenge.

Rhett sighed and made his way to the small office kitchen, with its avocado green and teal geometric wallpaper, a harvest-gold Philco refrigerator, a few cupboards with crockery and silverware, a small sink, and most noticeably an industrial Braun coffee maker. Any company worth its salt ran on a steady caffeine drip, and Rhett wagered that his boss’ blood ran thick with the stuff. Going on intuition, he puttered around with the coffee maker for a few moments until he’d successfully gotten the machine buzzing to life. He reached for a brown earthenware mug from the cupboard, and in a rush not to keep Mr. Neal waiting, he accidentally overfilled the cup, not leaving enough room for cream. He couldn’t remember if the man wanted cream, and he wracked his brain to no avail.

“Better safe than sorry,” he muttered under his breath as he poured the excess into the sink. The heavy mug slipped in his damp grip, and when the scalding liquid splashed his fingers, he jumped and cussed under his breath.

“You alright in here?” Came Stevie’s kind voice as she stepped into the cramped room, pulling open the fridge to pop in a piece of chartreuse Tupperware. In the same smooth movement, she reached around Rhett to flip on the cold water. He thrust his aching hand under the cool stream and gave the woman a grateful smile. “You’d best keep it under there a minute. That coffee’s deadly hot.”

“Yeah, thanks, Miss Levigne,” he said softly, oddly intimidated by the slight woman. “Just a bit nervous still. Trying to get this damn contraption to work.” He laughed, but she just looked up at him with a knowing smile of pity.

“Call me Stevie, man,” she said, handing him a paper towel. “Your last boss sang your praises when I called to check your references. From what I gathered, I doubt a little old coffee machine can best you.” Rhett flushed and looked down at the cup in his unwounded hand, and a sigh burrowed its way out of him. She was right. Coffee was doable. She reached out and put a soothing hand on his forearm before she whispered conspiratorially, “You just can’t let him get to you, okay? Whatever people are saying about him, well, it’s true, but it’s only part of the truth, and anyway, he’s just a man. Got it?”

“Yeah, that’s usually the way,” he answered breezily, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. Assholes were assholes, in Rhett’s experience. It didn’t matter what angle you looked at them from. “I just… I really need this job, and I get the feeling it doesn’t take much to get canned, so…”

“Honestly?” She asked. “If you want this job, you just gotta… not quit? I don’t know. Don’t let him bully you.” She flicked off the tap and handed Rhett a towel. “At any rate, my door is always open if you need help, alright?” Rhett nodded in appreciation.

“Thanks, Stevie,” he said as a grateful smile grew on his bearded face.

“Don’t mention it,” she said genuinely as she made for the door. Just as she was about to leave, she looked over her shoulder and said, “He takes it black, two sugars.” Rhett made a mental note to name his first born after her one day.

He carefully made his way into Mr. Neal’s office, gently setting the coffee on his desk next to the big stack of schemata that the man was bent over. “Brett,” the man barked, “I need you to take down a letter.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett replied as a reflex, stepping away from the irritable man like from an uncaged tiger. “Just let me grab my steno pad and a pen.”

“I certainly hope it won’t take as long as the coffee did.”

The lofty statement kind of hung there between them, and although Rhett opened his mouth to protest, he wisely decided against it. Dutifully, he went back out to his desk next to the typing pool and fetched his supplies. He returned a few seconds later and pulled up a small stool to the far side of Mr. Neal’s desk. It was comical, really, the way his long legs jutted up like a grasshopper’s. The last secretary must have been barely five feet tall, and at six foot seven himself, he must have looked a ridiculous sight perched on the white enamel and orange leatherette seat. He had half a mind to get up and adjust the height, but Mr. Neal’s icy blue eyes were already watching him severely from above the tortoise shell glasses balanced on his nose. Rhett turned the lined yellow pad to a fresh page and nodded that he was ready to take dictation.

“You know about the Center Plaza project, yes?” He asked shortly. Rhett felt red creeping up his neck.

“No, sir,” he answered. “Sorry.” Mr. Neal sighed heavily.

“It’s a multi-use development, shopping, business, recreation, et cetera,” he listed off as he started to pace. “It’s going to be the tallest building in all of Raleigh, and in the four years we’ll spend on it, we’ll be working with an architect firm, a construction company, city planners, et cetera.”

“That’s very impressive, sir,” Rhett said softly, wagering a little well-placed flattery wouldn’t hurt. Mr. Neal cast appraising eyes on the man before he continued speaking.

“Naturally, it’s going to be a giant clusterfuck of bureaucracy and collaboration,” he pointed out, “my worst nightmare. And where you come in,” he paused, making serious eye contact, “is to be a buffer between me and stupid bullshit. Is that clear?” It wasn’t, but Rhett nodded anyway. He shifted nervously under the man’s gaze. He wanted to tug his shirt collar away from his neck, welcome some breeze. He wasn’t sure how Mr. Neal would react to that.

“I’m going to need…” He began, unsure what he had intended to say.

“Guidance, I know,” Mr. Neal finished for him, a heavy and inscrutable glaze in his eyes. “I assume you know how to do as you’re told?” A little ball of tension formed in Rhett’s belly.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett breathed, and staring hard down at the pad in his lap, he could practically hear Mr. Neal smile. The ball of tension in Rhett’s stomach twisted as he added, “I’ve found… I respond well to firm leadership.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Neal asked softly, now gripping the back of his chair as he stared across the desk at Rhett’s bent frame.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett whispered.

“Very well,” Mr. Neal said with an air of finality, and shortly, he began to dictate a letter about the progress being made on the Center Plaza skyscraper project that had consumed him for the past year. Rhett had heard from Chase, who seemed to be the office gossip, that this was also the first big project the young Partner had been entrusted to lead. The man stood to lose a lot if he didn’t prove to Benson and McLasky that they hadn’t made a mistake promoting him. “Did you get that last part? I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett answered, making the last few crisp slashes of ink onto the steno pad. “I’ll type it up and send it immediately.” His boss picked up some papers on his desk and began reading intently. Rhett took the hint and returned to his desk, untangling himself from the too small stool.

Rhett threaded a piece of paper into the grey IBM typewriter. Cracking his knuckles, he made quick work of typing up the correspondence. He fell into an easy groove as he found the address in his overstuffed rolodex and penned it carefully on the envelope, neatly folding the letter in thirds, dampening the stamp with a swipe of the tongue, and placing it promptly in the outbound mail box on his desk. The sense of accomplishment didn’t last long as he examined the burn on his hand from earlier. A small blister had formed, the skin tight and red around it. He grimaced.

A woman in her early thirties approached the desk carrying blueprints. She tossed her platinum blonde hair and adjusted her brown glasses. Rhett couldn’t help noticing how slim she was and how smartly she was dressed in a red tweed skirt and jacket and a crisp white blouse. She was all business and said incisively, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Lizzie Bassett, Junior Partner.” He quickly reached out to shake her manicured hand. “Is Neal free for a minute?”

“Ah, yes, nice to meet you, Miss Basset,” he answered in a rush. “Rhett. I’m Rhett.” He fumbled with the buttons on the desk phone. “Let me see if Mr. Neal is available, one... moment.” The line buzzed for a moment as Rhett held the receiver to his ear. He nearly missed the way the woman rolled her eyes.

“What?” his boss barked impatiently over the phone.

Rhett cleared his throat, glancing up at Lizzie, and said, “Miss Bassett is here to see you.”

There was silence for a moment, before Mr. Neal said sternly, “I told you yesterday to keep her out of my damn office.”

“That’s correct,” Rhett said in a tinny voice. He flashed a plasticine smile up at her.

“I suppose she wants to talk about the trip.” Rhett heard a heavy sigh over the line. “If she’s here for more than two minutes, inform me of an important phone call.”

“Absolutely,” Rhett said brightly, hanging up the phone. “He’s ready to see you now.” He got up to open the door for the woman, closing it behind her and returning to his desk. A worrying gnawing in his belly distracted him from his work. He had the feeling he’d pay for having forgotten the No Bassett rule.

Lizzie sat down across from Link without invitation, leaning back with a poorly contained smirk. “I’m jealous, Neal,” she crooned. “You simply _must_  give me the name of the agency that sent over _that_  tall drink of water.”

Link sighed impatiently. “Is there something I can do for you Lizzie, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Lizzie slipped a hinged brass tin from her pocket and pulled out a slim cigarette. “Ever the businessman, Neal. Time is money, and all that jazz. I like that about you.” He had the sneaking suspicion he was being mocked, but he could read no irony in her expression.

“If you ever hope to make partner, I’d recommend you adopt the same attitude,” he replied glibly.

Chastised for her cheek, she exhaled a thin stream of pungent smoke and reached one long arm over his desk, plopping rolled up blueprints down in the center. “I wanted to ask your opinion on these,” she said. He glanced down at the papers, an eyebrow arched in bemusement. Much to his annoyance, they had both been assigned to the Center Plaza project, and they would be working together for the next four years. Unless he murdered her first. It also meant she would likely make partner, in which case he definitely would murder her.

“I’ll take a look at them,” he said, motioning to his drafting table, “if you’ll kindly leave them over there.”

“Or you could take a look at them now, while I’ve got you here...” Lizzie was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“Yes?” Link hissed into the receiver, irritated by the interruption almost as much as he was irritated by the cocky engineering ace sitting before him.

“It’s Rhett, sir,” the man stammered. “It’s, uh... It’s been two minutes. You asked me to call.” Recognition dawned on the man.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. He looked up at Lizzie and informed her, “I have to take this. I’ll get back to you on the blueprints when I can.” She frowned, ashed out her cigarette in the brass ashtray, and left with a clacking of her smart heels. He hung up the receiver and checked his watch. It had been exactly two minutes since she’d entered his office. “Rhett, get in here.”

After a moment, Rhett leaned his head in through the door, an open expression lighting his eyes as he asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

Mr. Neal mumbled, “I need coffee.”

Rhett fought a small smile. “Right away, sir.” But as he turned to leave, Mr. Neal called out to him.

“Oh, and one more thing.” His voice was sharp and cool. Rhett nearly shivered as Mr. Neal said placidly, “I think you misunderstand the dress code.” Rhett immediately glanced down at his dark navy slacks and pressed white shirt. As he was leaving for work this morning, Gregg had told him he looked perfect, the very image of professionalism.

“Sir?” Rhett asked incredulously.

“You’re my secretary,” Mr. Neal said, watching Rhett over the top of his glasses. “Tomorrow, I want to see you in something a bit more… pretty.”

“Of course, Mr. Neal,” Rhett breathily replied, and by the time he reached the kitchen, his face was split with a blushy grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhett was starting to lose his cool.

He’d shown up Tuesday morning, early even by his own standards. He’d sat in his car far longer than normal, his hands braced against the steering wheel as his heart pounded in his chest, and whispered over and over, “Okay, chill the fuck out.” He glanced down for the twentieth time at his tight, periwinkle button up shirt, and he quailed.

Gregg had spent the night again, and he’d lazily watched from the bed that morning as Rhett stood fretting in front of the dresser mirror, swapping back and forth between different neckties. “Hot date today?” He had purred, as though it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Should I be jealous?”

Rhett had just smirked at the man, but as the morning progressed and Mr. Neal had taken no notice of his extra efforts, that internal smirk had soured into a burning, self-conscious regret. When he’d finished piles of correspondence for the man in under an hour, he’d received a laconic glower and a drawled, “What are you standing there gawking for?” Rhett quivered at the tone of Mr. Neal’s voice. “Go find something to do.”

All Tuesday night, Rhett stress-cleaned his apartment and wallowed in frustration. He firmly decided that come Wednesday, he’d up the ante, and he did just that, sliding into work wearing a trim-cut brown suit and a tight, colorful paisley shirt. He’d been cheeky in ditching the tie and leaving the top two buttons undone. He looked good, and he damn well knew it. Mr. Neal hardly glanced up once all day except for the opportunity to snap at Rhett twice over the temperature of his coffee.

Thursday, Rhett clocked in dressed in a pale teal shirt. He’d left three buttons open for Mr. Neal today. The man seemed once more not to notice. Rhett was three seconds away from screaming.

He had nearly walked out of a dictation session, because his asshole of a boss had insisted he read back his notes after every other sentence. “Do you even _speak_ English?” Mr. Neal had waspishly asked after Rhett had inadvertently substituted a wrong word here and there. Rhett flinched and slapped on the white-out.

By Friday, he’d pretty much had all he could take of Mr. Neal’s indifference. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slipped into his desk wearing a button up in the prettiest little pink rose print, undone almost down to his damn nipples, a jaunty little ascot hanging loosely over his exposed chest. If this didn’t work, he’d have to come in Monday morning wearing nothing but his birthday suit and a smile.

At some point, his brain unhelpfully supplied the thought, “Why does it matter if he likes what you’re wearing?” And honestly, it really didn’t, because Mr. Neal was such an asshole, but his boss had given him an order, and all Rhett needed was some kind of recognition for a job well done.

As he set about his morning tasks, he was in an oddly chipper mood. Mr. Neal had been out on location all morning, and Rhett had plans after work to meet a college buddy for a beer, and then a full weekend of lying around listening to records and relaxing was just the ticket after this hellish nightmare week. He stood before the sink in the men’s room, seeing in the polished mirror just how tired he looked, even dolled up as he was. He glanced down at his watch and nearly groaned in relief when he realized he’d be on his lunch break before long.

He came back from the trip to the washroom and found a scrap of paper on his desk, upon which was hastily scribbled _MY OFFICE. NOW._ His heart sank. Rhett mentally scanned through every letter, every phone call, every moment of the week and could think of nothing he had done wrong. Resigned to his fate, he sighed and entered Mr. Neal’s office.

“Sit down, Brett,” the man commanded, gesturing to the tiny stool next to his desk.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” Rhett asked softly, pausing in the doorway. “If so, I’m really sorry. I…”

“Yeah, I’d say you have,” he answered sharply. “Now, _sit_  down.” Rhett scrambled onto the stool, feeling horribly foolish as Mr. Neal slapped an envelope down on the edge of the desk. It was stamped _Return to Sender. Wrong Address_. Rhett glanced at the address written neatly on the letter he had typed and sent a few days earlier. Mr. Neal’s eyes were shining as he gazed down at Rhett. “Did you send out this letter?”

“Well, yes, sir. But I-”

“Atacama Corporation is our most important source of rebar. We’ve fought hard to win their business,” he said calmly. “Imagine my surprise when I went to meet with them this morning, and they knew nothing of the order form I’d sent over. An order that, once delayed, had set back the entire construction schedule.” Rhett squirmed on the edge of his seat. “And then I return from that catastrophic meeting just in time to receive _this_.” Mr. Neal shoved the envelope roughly towards Rhett.

“Sir, I-”

“Do you realize,” he asked through gritted teeth, “that when you’re sloppy, it makes me look sloppy?” Rhett bowed his head. “It makes me look lazy and stupid and like I have no right being partner here.” He slammed his hand down on the desk beside Rhett, his face uncomfortably close now. Rhett flinched. “What kind of idiot are you that you can’t even send a _goddamn_  letter? Is that why you can’t get a man’s job?”

“Sir!” Rhett cried in protest.

“And then you come in here,” he continued, voice low and gravelly, “dressed like that.” Rhett’s heart lurched as he followed his boss’ wandering eyes. Mr. Neal bit his lips and hissed, “Look at that ridiculous ascot. What is that, _gift wrapping_?” Rhett’s heart bottomed out in his belly as Mr. Neal ran his tongue across his teeth.

“Not at all,” Rhett whispered. “Just something to hold onto.” Mr. Neal laughed, a quick gush of surprised breath.

“For whom?” He drawled, watching Rhett like a predator, clocking every twitch and every blink. Rhett could feel heat rising up his exposed chest, and he grew suddenly shy.

“Sir, with all due respect,” he began, his voice shaky with poorly controlled emotion, “I’m just following your orders. And it should go without saying that there is _nothing_ wrong with so-called ‘women’s work.’” Mr. Neal scoffed and slumped back into his seat, his lingering eyes now rolling in their sockets. Flatly, Rhett continued, “And I really am sorry I made you look foolish, as I respect your work ethic and know that my work directly reflects your performance.” His face burned red, and his stomach twisted into fluttery knots with the way Mr. Neal was watching him over the tops of his glasses. He blandly muttered, “May I have the letter, so I can fix it? I’ll hand-deliver it on my lunch hour, so my mistake won’t delay the correspondence any further.” Rhett felt like a drawn bow-string just waiting to snap. Humility always took a lot out of him.

Mr. Neal stood up and leaned against his drafting table. He cleared his throat as he forced his attention on another matter collated and stacked on the desk. “Just… fix it,” he sighed dismissively, waving towards the offending letter perched on his inbox. Rhett turned to leave, and as he reached the door, he heard his boss softly add, “In future, you’ll leave the ascot at home.” Rhett’s breath hitched, and his fingers trembled as he twisted the door handle.

He brought the letter back to his desk and seated himself tidily, trying to ignore the sympathetic glances from the typists’ pool. He shut his eyes and forced a deep breath, stiffly exhaling some latent tension. At length, he set to work on mending his error, flicking open the untidy Rolodex and flipping to the pertinent entry. He removed the card and glared back and forth between it and the envelope. His jaw clenched of its own accord, and an unkind light flickered in his eyes. The two addresses were identical. He had made no mistake.

He snatched the phone from its mount and spun the dial with stiff fingers, dialing in what was neatly written on the card. The call was met by the measured beeping sound of disconnection. He rolled his eyes and lugged a hefty phone book from the bottom drawer of his desk and dug through the pages until he found the listing for Atacama Corporation, a completely different address and phone number from the Rolodex. He glanced at the date on the spine of the phone book and sighed heavily. The Rolodex hadn’t been updated in at least six months. He quickly jotted the chore on the very top of his agenda just after the chore of personally handing the letter over to reception at Atacama.

Mr. Neal ought to know of this discovery. The man had been thoroughly pissed off, and this could only help Rhett get back into his good graces. He nipped off to the kitchen first, more than certain the news would go down easier with a fresh cup of coffee. He tapped the frame of the door with the tip of his shoe, his hands preoccupied with mug and letter and phone book. When his boss had barked at him to enter, he pushed the door open with a hip.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Rhett began, carefully setting the coffee down on the desk. “I just wanted to show you something interesting,” he added confidently.

“I hope it’s interesting enough to interrupt me in the middle of my work,” Neal sniped, shuffling some rolled up plans from one stack to another. He sipped the coffee, considered it a moment, and replaced it back onto his desk.

“It’s not super important,” Rhett began, propping open the phone book for Mr. Neal’s consideration, “But you’ll be happy to know that I didn’t write the incorrect address on the envelope.” With that proud pronouncement, he watched with a falling feeling as Mr. Neal’s expression soured. He blathered on, “I mean, I _did_ , but only because it was wrong in the Rolodex, not because I transcribed it wrong, and I just wanted to…”

Mr. Neal cut him off solely with the sharpness in his eyes. Rhett floundered in front of him, already realizing how foolish he’d been in his eagerness to please his new boss.

“So,” Neal began in a lethal whisper, “what I’m hearing… is that you’re too careless to double check your work.” The ruler in Mr. Neal’s hand was a mere blur as he cracked it down on the top of his desk. Rhett flinched, and flushed an embarrassing crimson. “You think it’s  _my_ responsibility to keep the Rolodex in order?” He scoffed, rising up from his seat. He leaned forward, towering over Rhett’s seated frame. His voice was sardonic and lethal when he asked, “Rex, does that sound like the responsibility of a partner at the biggest engineering firm in the state of North Carolina? Well?”

“No, sir,” Rhett croaked miserably.

“No, indeed,” Mr. Neal hissed. “I’d say that sounds like the responsibility of the  _fucking_ secretary, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett rasped. His humiliation was just about complete. He wished a pit to hell would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ruler grasped in Mr. Neal’s strong hands.

“I mean, if they want to pay me my salary to update addresses all day, I’ll gladly do it,” he continued, “but I think it’s probably best we save that kind of trivial work for talentless hacks who get paid accordingly.” The ruler clattered to the desk as Mr. Neal sank one strong hand around the ascot around Rhett’s neck. He tugged lightly at it with a dark light in his eyes. “Don’t you think so, Brett?” Mr. Neal clearly wanted an answer, but all Rhett could see was a flashing red that warned of danger. His entire body thrummed from the sensation of the ascot tightening around his neck. Rhett’s nails dug threateningly into the vinyl of the chair, and the phone book had long fallen forgotten to the floor. He was growing dizzy, but this time, just this once, Mr. Neal would not be allowed to bulldoze him.

“That’s not my name,” he said through grit teeth. Mr. Neal froze mid-sentence.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, astonished. His grip loosened, and he leaned back against the desk.

“That isn’t my name,” the taller man repeated. “My name is Rhett.” He was biting out his words, shaking nearly out of his skin as Mr. Neal glared down at him. He couldn’t recall having been this frightened or alive since he was a child. Still, he persisted, “R-H-E-T-T. Not Rex or Rob or Brett. _Rhett_ ,” he said as he rose to leave the room, phone book and letter in hand, “and you’ll do me the courtesy of remembering that in future.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, a grin crept across Mr. Neal’s lips. “Fair enough.” He hummed the name, “Rhett.”

As the fire died down inside the blond, he uttered, “Thank you, sir.” And with that, he turned to leave.

“Oh, and on second thought,” Mr. Neal called out, “keep the ascot.” Rhett burned bright pink.

He sat at his desk, heart pounding and hands shaking, and he took out some liquid paper to correct the address on the Rolodex card before pulling out a fresh envelope and readdressing the letter. He still burned with whatever the hell it was that just happened, with regret for having so misread the situation, and even as he tried to ignore what had happened, a complicated flurry of emotion took hold over him, like a forest fire during a drought. He chewed his lip as a heavy tear slid down his cheek.

“You okay, buddy?” Stevie asked, leaning against the edge of his desk. He jolted, frantically scrubbing away the tear, unsure just when she’d appeared at his side.

“Yeah,” he said, sniffing away his tears, desperately trying to hide his little outburst. “Fine.”

“Sure,” she said, deadpan. She glanced at her delicate gold wrist watch. “It’s ten ‘til. Wanna get out of here, grab a bite to eat? My treat.” He looked up at her with grateful, red-rimmed eyes.

“You up for a walk first?” He asked hopefully. “I gotta deliver this letter. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Sure, meet you at the doors in ten,” she said, giving his shoulder a knowing squeeze.

They walked the few blocks to drop off the letter and got a table at a small diner just around the corner without much hassle. Rhett fumbled and worried with the menu as they were waiting to order their meals, something Stevie didn’t miss.

“So, tell me what happened.” It wasn’t a question, and Rhett realized that she had probably already figured out half of what had gone on just by watching the play of tension across his shoulders. She leaned forward with an elbow on the table as she pulled a swig of Coke. Her bright eyes never left his. Rhett sighed and smoothed out his beard absently.

“Just your standard, garden variety fuckup,” he mumbled, and happy to find a sympathetic ear, he unloaded on her. “I haven’t even been here a week.  _I_  didn’t put the damn address in the Rolodex. I mean, I thought for sure he’d understand, and I don’t know...”

“Oh, dear,” she smirked, “you thought he’d apologize for having yelled at you.” She laughed into her Coke, and Rhett realized with dawning frustration how stupid he’d been to think Mr. Neal would be understanding. But when he’d brought up the issue with his name… Well, that could have just been the jerk off playing more of his bullshit cat-and-mouse games.

“I don’t care if he chews me out for screwing up,” Rhett explained patiently, “But I would expect that he’d cut me some slack while I’m adjusting into the position. Shit, I barely know what I’m doing half the time, and he never gives me any direction.” He grimaced as the waitress laid out their plates before them. He nodded his thanks to the woman and continued, “It’s like I’m just supposed to  _know_ everything. Most of the time, he’s in his office with his door closed, and I’m trying to find something to do, and then he’ll come out and drop a huge stack of work on my desk that he all wants done immediately and then bitch at me for not being busier. I can’t win.” She watched him as he unloaded, eating her burger slowly. She swallowed it down and reached out a hand to his wrist.

“Here’s the thing about Neal,” she said conspiratorially. “He wasn’t always such an ass. I mean, he wasn’t a ray of sunshine, but he kept to himself most of the time. Like, he was real serious and constantly put in twelve hour days. Lost his girlfriend of three years because of it. I mean, it’s why he’s risen to the top so fast.” She sighed. “I know how he comes off, but he’s not a tyrant, not really. I’m not saying you should forgive his behavior, but I just… I dunno.”

Rhett drummed his long fingers on the formica table, mouthing a thank you to the waitress as she unceremoniously refilled his coffee. He turned over what she said in his brain, but it didn’t have the intended effect. “Maybe the pressure is getting to him,” Rhett said to appease her, thought he didn’t buy the excuse for a second. He shoved the club sandwich into his face like a starving man.

“Maybe…” She said thoughtfully. She hesitated, biting back what she was about to say. Rhett’s attention was piqued. “Now, I’m not one to gossip, but shortly after he made partner, rumour started spreading that he made a pass at a former intern here, a male intern.” Rhett’s heart churned in his chest. He really, really didn’t need to be hearing this. “Now, I have it on fairly good authority that the rumor started with one of the other junior partners at the time who wanted to tarnish his reputation.” She laughed. “It’s ridiculous really, considering he’s _constantly_  cruising for broads.”

“As he should be,” Rhett interrupted too enthusiastically. Stevie quirked her brow meaningfully.

“Anyway, all I’m saying is that Neal deals with a lot of crap, a couple people trying to make him look foolish.” She picked through her fries. “He’s got certain standards, and if you don’t make the cut, brother… well, you just don’t make the cut.”

“I see.” Rhett’s head swam with this information, with the thought that Mr. Neal was a horrible asshole no matter what Stevie said, but he snapped out of it as soon as he glanced at his watch. “Crap, we’d better get back.” He panicked. “I don’t need another excuse to be yelled at today.” Stevie settled up the check, and they made their way back to the office, Rhett arriving at his desk with seconds to spare before Mr. Neal came storming from the lift, his office door slamming behind him moments later.

Rhett opened up the Rolodex and began the arduous task of amending every single contact. He made damn sure the system was pristine. God help him, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He thought of Mr. Neal and his psychotic standards. He thought of the nightmarish work ahead of him. His fingers trailed the satin of his ascot.

He’d make the cut if it killed him, goddammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the sweet comments about your favorite parts of the fic and how sadistic our posting schedule is. You guys are great <3
> 
> -meirenyu


	4. Chapter 4

On Monday, Rhett arrived earlier than usual.

He sighed heavily, hemming and hawing in front of the glass office doors as he tried to work up the will to open them. The weekend had gone by far too fast for his liking. Mr. Neal would be waiting on the other side of those doors, and he wasn’t completely sure he could bear the thought of that, if the pounding of his heart was anything to go by.

At length, he swung open the double glass doors to find a nearly vacant office. He’d have found the quiet almost pleasant save for the fact that he knew it wouldn’t last. The clock read about fifteen ‘til, and soon the office would be filled with the clatter of keys, ringing phones, and incessant chit-chat. He could see through the flung open door of Neal’s office that the man wasn’t in yet, but he stopped in his tracks the moment he saw his own desk. Or rather, what should have been his desk, but it was so surrounded by stacks of neatly taped-up filing boxes, he wondered if he still even had a desk to speak of. His face fell. He sighed and removed his overcoat, flinging it across the back of his chair as he pondered just what on earth had happened to his work station.

Fifteen minutes spent making coffee and five minutes spent deliberating over whether to peek inside the boxes (addressed C. Neal) had left him dumbly stroking his bearded chin with a large hand by the time most of his coworkers had filed in. He plopped down at his desk and listlessly shuffled some blank forms around, because he’d be damned if he’d admit to not having the faintest clue where to start. He checked his watch for the umpteenth time. He ignored the curious glances and muffled whispers of his coworkers. Rhett swore he’d remain calm and collected in this mess, but 9:15 rolled around and neither his boss nor Stevie had arrived yet (a mixed blessing), and he still had no idea if he should open the boxes. He was starting to sweat.

“Decision time, McLaughlin,” he muttered, roughing up his beard. He chugged down the last splash of cooling coffee in his mug before he prepared to throw himself over a cliff of sorts. He pulled a pen-knife from the top drawer of the desk and swallowed hard, reaching shaking hands towards the packing tape sealing the nearest box. He could practically feel the verbal whiplashing from Mr. Neal. Suddenly, he was dragged from his stupor by the approaching sound of wooden heels thunking on the thinly carpeted floor. A sharply dressed woman appeared around the stack of cardboard, her painted lips curled in a patronizing smile. His sinking heart wobbled in his belly. “Miss Bassett!” He called out, flicking the pen-knife shut behind his back. “Do you know when Mr. Neal will be in?”

“He’s at a meeting all morning,” she replied automatically through her pristine coral lipstick. “Or didn’t he tell you?” Her eyes flicked to where his hands hid behind his back, and her smile sharpened into something vulpine. She batted her long eyelashes as she asked brightly, “Perhaps I can help?”

“I… Uh...” He hesitated, reasonably certain she’d seen the knife and not quite sure just what she thought he was doing with it. _Opening the boxes_ , yes, but what if that wasn’t allowed? Would she report back to Stevie? Or worse, Neal? Stevie had already been so patient with him, and he really wanted to prove he could get on without her. And he aimed to avoid Neal’s annoyance at all costs. He swallowed hard.

“Oh,” she noted coolly, “I see the accounting department’s delivered all of Neal’s paperwork from last quarter.” He tried his hardest to look like this didn’t surprise him. She smirked after a beat and added, “And of course, you know it all needs to go down to long-term storage.” He nodded and waved his free hand dismissively as he slipped the knife into his back pocket. “And you know how the filing system works?”

Rhett glanced at his desk, screwing his brain for any kind of shred of memory from his orientation with Stevie. _Nada. Zilch. Zero_. “I, uh…”

“I'll show you everything, sweetie,” Lizzie replied with a candied warmth. “Seriously, it’s okay not to know stuff.” She clapped a manicured claw on his shoulder, and even though she stood an entire head shorter than Rhett, he somehow felt like a silly boy whimpering in the school nurse’s office.

“Thank you so much,” he gushed with a grateful smile. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” She winked, and Rhett felt a flash of uncertainty that he quickly ignored.

He spent the next half hour with a dolly and rolled-up sleeves, carting the boxes down to the storage area and arranging them in the filing system Lizzie had painstakingly laid out for him. He thanked the gods for his substantial height, a boon in getting the boxes up onto the top shelves. He took a break halfway through to work out the wrench in his back. He’d be feeling that one in the morning. In the bathroom, he dabbed at his brow, obscuring any trace of his hard labor, and reluctantly, he returned to his desk just in time to catch the last ringing of his desk phone.

“Hello?” He answered automatically with a slight groan as he sank down into his chair, bearing down on the twinge in his back.

The response was curt and sour. “And now, you’ll answer the phone the correct way.”

The barely restrained, cutting voice of his boss wrung a zinging thrill through his belly. His heart nearly stopped. He swallowed dryly and tried to answer as smoothly as possible, “Benson, McLasky & Neal.” His voice rasped shamefully. “Mr. Neal’s office.”

“Get me the number for Mike Feldman in Key Biscayne. I need to confirm some things about the trip next week.” Even through the staticky phone line, Rhett could practically hear the grinding of the man’s jaw. This couldn’t be good.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett answered mechanically, feverishly flipping through the rolodex. He dumbly parroted the numbers back to his boss. “Anything else, sir?”

“You can expect a meeting in my office upon my return,” he issued coolly. “Your lack of decorum will not stand.” The line went dead. Rhett licked his dry lips and sank lower into his chair. A shaky sigh did nothing to steel his nerves. He tried to ignore the way his heart sped up at the thought of his impending doom.

 

As far as work days went, this one wasn’t ranking high for Rhett. It wasn’t even noon, and he wasn’t certain what kind of hell he’d catch when Mr. Neal returned to the office, but he already knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He swallowed hard against his racing pulse. His back ached, and he just wanted to lie down and stretch out. Instead, he tried banging out some of Mr. Neal’s regular correspondence, squirming in his chair, trying to get comfortable. Nothing was working. He couldn’t find an iota of focus knowing what awaited him later.

He could sense his boss’ return long before he saw the man, not mistaking the storm clouds rolling overhead as the man came thundering down the walkway to his office. “Office. Now,” he snarled, motioning for Rhett to enter his office behind him. Rhett scrambled up from his seat and hurried after, quietly shutting the door, separating the two of them from prying eyes and ears. He stood anxiously before the desk while his boss shifted through folders, his lips drawn in piqued anger. Rhett was floundering, unsure if his should be on his knees, begging mercy for having answered the phone so carelessly.

“Sir, about the phone earlier-” Mr. Neal’s cold blue eyes bored up through Rhett’s. Something was different about the man. He was far more keyed up than Rhett had yet seen him.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he growled. “Now, _sit_  down.” Rhett immediately complied, practically dropping into the chair in front of the desk. Mr. Neal seemed almost pleased for a flash of a moment. The moment ended abruptly as the man commanded, “Have you any idea how you make this company look when you answer the phone so casually?” Rhett’s face heated crimson beneath his thick beard. He felt dizzy and weak. “Well?”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, eyes downcast.

“See, I don’t think you do,” Mr. Neal hissed through clenched teeth. He rose from his seat and leaned across the desk, bracing himself on his knuckles. “I think you have no _fucking_  clue what you’re doing.” Rhett flinched, and his breath came shorter, harsher.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m not done.” Rhett fell silent, staring at his knees. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” He glanced up into Mr. Neal’s tempestuous eyes, so cold and blue, like drowning in a lake. Mr. Neal bit his lower lip before snarling, “Do I have to _beat_  the stupid out of you, boy?” Rhett shivered to hear the man’s voice grow thicker with a teasing southern drawl. It sent Rhett’s head reeling. Mr. Neal was tightly drawn with anger, and he turned to the portrait windows behind him, staring out on the city below as he searched for words.

Rhett’s pulse was racing. He felt half-mad with it. He looked nervously at his boss’ desk, clocking the wooden ruler resting there. His palms were damp, shaking as he stood and plucked it up from the brass cup where it innocuously sat. Almost silently, he sidled up to Mr. Neal’s turned back and breathlessly nudged the ruler into the man’s hand. He jerked around at Rhett’s touch and stared down at the ruler, almost gaping in his confusion.

“I… I didn’t mean...” Mr. Neal stammered, gobsmacked by his employee’s silent dare. Rhett’s brain went blank, and he did his best to stare his boss in the eyes, unfalteringly towering over him, daring him to do something. Mr. Neal ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, smoothing his locks back as he gazed up at Rhett, scrutinizing his motives.

“Hey, if it’s gonna make you less of a prick, I’ll take my chances,” Rhett airily quipped, and he could feel a horrible flushing redness climbing up his neck. He was a second away from being fired, he knew it.

“You watch your mouth when you-” Mr. Neal began, but there was no fire to his words, and Rhett cut him off at the quick.

“Do it,” he practically begged. “Sir.”

Mouth dry, Mr. Neal straightened his tie and quietly ordered, “Hands on the desk, boy.”

Rhett’s lip curled into a smile, hidden by his moustache. He slowly lowered himself down onto the desk until his palms and forearms were flush with the polished wood, his back arched. He bit his lip, self-consciously turning around to glance at his boss, foolhardily egging him on.

Mr. Neal glared down at his secretary, slapping the ruler twice against his own solid palm, testing. Rhett might have blushed if he could only see the way his boss scanned his entire prone body. Mr. Neal stood behind him and began wavering. Rhett’s thighs trembled from holding his ass up in the air. He knew it was sticking up through the vent in his plaid sports coat, tight and round in his snug brown slacks, and as he imagined how he must look, his resolve began to crumble ever so slightly. He shifted against the uncomfortable wood, quite aware that this had gone on for far too long and that perhaps he’d royally misread the entire situation.

The agony of lingering ate at his resolve. This was a horrible mistake. He’d nearly pushed himself up from the desk, a fountain of apologies, when he heard Mr. Neal slowly stalk around to the front of the desk. His fine belt buckle and ochre tie came into Rhett’s narrow view just moments before Rhett felt the man’s breath brush against the side of his face, giving rise to shivers rasping down Rhett’s spine. “You brought this upon yourself,” he whispered.

“I know,” Rhett granted.

Mr. Neal stood up tall, and without warning, he brought the ruler down hard across Rhett’s knuckles. A bright stinging tremor shook up the length of his arms, and Rhett sucked in a long, jittery breath. He fought through the bright aching, pressing down hard against the desk until _snap_. He flinched, let out a small whimper. _Snap_. He hissed, breathed out a low, muffled groan. His hands glowed with blushing stripes.

“Have you sufficiently learned your lesson, Rhett?” Mr. Neal asked, and Rhett could swear there was a poorly restrained shakiness there. His belly exploded with curious heat.

“I’m not sure,” Rhett muttered, palms still flat on the desk. He could hear Mr. Neal shift before three more sharp lashes fell in rapid succession. Viscous, trembling, shiny pain coursed through Rhett’s veins, and he bit back a guttural moan.

“And now?” It was just a whisper.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett gasped, head light, body sagging under a quick woosh of fuzz and bliss.

“Then leave,” Mr. Neal bit out. He sat down abruptly, slotting the ruler back into its cup.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett complied, standing up and straightening his jacket. He quietly made his way out of the office, eyes downcast, his hands in pockets. As he sank into his seat, he gazed down at the thin, pink lines across the backs of his hands. He traced the marks with a tender fingertip. He let out a long, uneven sigh and tried not to smile like a damn fool for the whole office to see.

 

His head was swimming. _That_ had been the last thing he’d imagined would happen today, and he frankly wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it. The ache of his hands reminded him that he hadn’t. He grasped at his coffee mug and headed to the kitchen for a refill. Stevie stood at the sink, carefully scrubbing a dish. She smiled at him as he entered.

“Working hard?” She joked.

“Hardly working,” Rhett sniped back with smiling eyes.

“So, uh,” she started hesitantly. “I guess you didn’t have any trouble getting the accounting documents sorted. They did come this morning, right?”

“Oh, Miss Bassett helped me sort it out,” Rhett explained. Her lips drew tight and she quirked an eyebrow.

“Interesting.”

“How so?” He asked, reaching for the coffee pot.

“It’s just unlike her to help, is all,” Stevie said softly as she began drying her Tupperware. Rhett hummed a curious note and grabbed the creamer. They stood in comfortable silence as Rhett finished topping off his coffee.

Not long after he returned to his desk, he received a call from Mr. Neal. His stomach twisted, which was a perfectly ridiculous reaction when he thought about it.

“How can I help you, Mr. Neal?” He asked, and he almost immediately went crimson at how sweet and flirty his stupid voice came out.

“Find Aimee Brells in the rolodex,” he ordered, monotone. “Invite her to dinner at Le Cocatris at 7:00. She can find her own ride there.” The light feeling in Rhett’s belly transmogrified into a mean, lead weight.

“Of course,” he answered in a measured clip. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he flipped through the rolodex, stopping on a card that read _Brells, Aimee_. He sloppily plucked it loose, and it fluttered from his shaky fingers. The reverse side of the card was covered with a hastily scribbled note. _Blonde bombshell/size 2/likes to party._  The phone only rang twice by the time the other end picked up. A tired-sounding woman answered. “Hi, is this Miss Brells?”

“Mrs. Brells and yes,” answered a husky, sweet voice that felt to Rhett’s ears like wisps of peppermint and tobacco smoke.

“I, um, Charles Neal requests the pleasure of your company at Le Cocatris for dinner this evening,” he robotically informed her. She laughed softly from the other end.

“Oh, darling Linky’s missing me again, is he?” She asked with a Marlene Dietrich brand of tragic insight. “Or is he just bored tonight?” Rhett cleared his tightening throat and opened his mouth to speak a couple of times.

“He asks,” he started. “He asks that you join him at 7:00 and that you find your own transportation to the restaurant.” Again, she laughed.

“Yes, darling, I know the drill,” she assured him. “Tell him I’ll be expecting something fragrant in a glass bottle, something French. Something expensive.” A hundred accusatory questions flooded Rhett’s mind, but Mrs. Brells had hung up long before he could develop the lunacy of actually prying into his boss’ personal business. He thunked the handset back onto the phone base and hysterically fought the urge to “lose” the woman’s contact card in the wastepaper basket at his feet. He slipped the card back into place and swallowed thickly around a gulp from his coffee mug.

“What does she want this time?” Mr. Neal asked as he came from his office, tugging his coat into place as he swapped his briefcase between hands.

“Perfume,” Rhett answered, voice taut and unaffected, eyes glued to some incomplete forms on his desk. “French.”

“Of course, she does,” Mr. Neal answered stiffly. “I guess it’s a small cost when it comes to getting what we men want, wouldn’t you agree?” He studiously adjusted and readjusted his cufflinks as he spoke.

“Boys will be boys,” Rhett answered unenthusiastically, but it seemed to satisfy whatever his boss wanted to hear from him then, and with that, the man turned to leave once more.

“Oh, and you can go home when you finish up those forms,” he called out over his shoulder, and soon after, the lift doors closed behind him.

“Yeah, thanks,” Rhett spat, “ _Linky_.”

 

After a quick dinner in a Chinese place on the way home, Rhett made it back to his cramped apartment with an aching back and a lot of compartmentalizing to do.

However, it seemed Gregg had other plans for their evening, and he was there already, waiting unannounced on the brown, floral sofa in the living room. The door had barely closed behind Rhett when Gregg pounced on him, peeling his clothes open, discarding them in a trail as he tugged his reluctant friend towards the bedroom. He pushed Rhett against the end of the bed, tugging his golden blonde hair with loose fingers so he could press hungry kisses to Rhett’s throat. “Rhett, baby,” he gasped, as he spun the taller man around, kissing his neck and back, “been waiting for you for hours.”

“You could have told me you were coming over,” Rhett sighed as Gregg bent him over the edge of the bed. Gregg’s hand grazed his ass slowly, cupping it with blunt fingers.

“You know I like surprising you,” he chuckled, pulling back with an open palm, lightly slapping Rhett’s firm ass.

Rhett gazed back with wide eyes and gasped, “Gregg, yeah.”

“Oh, god,” he said with condemnation and disgust, pulling away from Rhett’s bent frame. “I forgot how much you love that freaky shit.”

“Gregg, it’s just a little spanking,” he began, but the old familiar shame came creeping up on him fast, and he lost his courage. Gregg stood off to the side of the room, looking foolish in nothing but socks and tented boxers.

“Can’t you just… pretend to be normal when you’re with me?” Gregg muttered, glaring angrily at his nail beds. Rhett sighed, fighting the tears burning in his eyes as he grabbed for his discarded boxers from the bedroom floor.

“Just go home, Gregg,” Rhett said emptily. “I’m tired.”

“You know,” Gregg said, pausing in the doorway, “you could probably find someone if you just hid that weird shit.” Rhett glared up at Gregg from the edge of the bed. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Just go,” he sighed. “I’ll call you a taxi.” And soon Gregg was gone, and Rhett was alone again in his neat little apartment.

He picked up his rumpled suit from the floor and hung it up carefully in his closet before starting the shower. He glared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment as the shower heated up, trying to decide whether or not he was going to allow himself to think about what had happened today at work. He could say without a shadow of doubt that he’d not harbored a single untoward thought towards his boss until this afternoon.

That hand-smacking had crossed some wires in his head. That was for certain.

He slipped into the shower, a moment later turning it as hot as it would go. The water beat down on his back as he tried to make sense of his stupid head. The more he thought about it, he was damned pleased Mr. Neal had gone off gallivanting with that woman. Charles Lincoln Neal III was so completely off limits, he might as well be the moon, and Rhett took comfort in that thought. It galvanized him. He knew where he stood with that damned fascist. He was a man, and Mr. Neal was the moon.

But then his thoughts unhelpfully turned to the look in Neal’s eyes when Rhett had slipped that ruler into his hand. The brilliant, glowing sting of his carefully laid blows. The way his voice shook after he had given Rhett his licks. And for the first time since it had happened days before, Rhett allowed himself to relive the heady sensation of Neal pulling his ascot tight around his throat.

His hand, the soft pink marks having long faded, found its way to his heavy cock, working it slowly as the hot water ran burning rivulets down the length of his naked body. Thoughts kept entering his head, thoughts he really ought to push out, but he only stroked himself harder, faster, more needy, grunting as his senses buzzed. He wondered what his boss’ sure hands would feel like grasping and pulling and striking him. How he’d master Rhett’s self-control. How the man’s cock would feel rutting inside him.

 _Fuck, this is inconvenient_ , he thought through a haze of miserable lust as he splashed his sloppy, hot come across the steamy tile wall.


	5. Chapter 5

In truth, Rhett hadn’t slept well the night before. Each time he found himself drifting off, his blankets warm around him, the faint glow of street light filtering in through the curtains, he jerked awake with some vague sense of alarm. His room was always empty, and immediately his brain flooded with the sudden flurry of new sensations his boss inspired. Sleep was slow in returning to him.

There was a heaviness in his eyes as he stalked into the building lobby the next morning. The receptionist at the front desk nodded. He nodded in return. His shoulders drooped, and he rested his briefcase down at his feet until the lift finally opened for him. He ambled inside, but at the sound of approaching footsteps, he jammed his finger into the hold button. When his tired eyes met with cool, blue ones, Rhett suddenly rushed with electricity.

“Oh,” he said before he could catch himself. “Good morning, Mr. Neal.” His boss stood rigid, eyes trained on the door.

“Good morning, Rhett,” he said curtly, and that seemed to be the end of their conversation. They rode up to the tenth floor in silence. Without another word, Mr. Neal rushed into his office and closed the door behind him. Rhett watched the solid wood for a moment, a funny, worried flutter in his belly. The residual energy from the brief ride in the lift flooded out of him, and he practically collapsed into his chair.

Not even five minutes after he arrived, Stevie slipped by his desk to deposit a steaming cup of coffee with a sympathetic smile. “You look like shit, buddy,” she muttered as she went back to work.

“Thanks,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, and he took a grateful sip.

Not much later, before the caffeine had even kicked in yet, a button lit up on the comm box next to the phone. His heart surged in his chest. The speaker crackled, and he heard his boss’ voice quietly demand, “Coffee.” Rhett’s expression tightened as a dark pit opened up inside him.

“Yes, sir,” he brusquely replied. He unwound his legs from their cramped fold beneath the desk and went to the kitchen.

He stood before the sink, rubbing the slight, yellow bruise on his middle knuckle. He thought of the look in Mr. Neal’s when he’d put that bruise there. He felt too warm and on edge, damp in the armpits and ill at ease. His hands were clammy as they grasped the mug and poured in the hot coffee. He blindly reached for the sugar and then froze as a rebellious plot entered his tempestuous head. He set the sugar down again. He took a deep breath, ground his teeth, and reached for the salt shaker.

A malicious smile split his face as he stirred.

Mr. Neal was bent over some paperwork when Rhett silently entered with the steaming cup. In the short walk from the kitchen to his boss’ desk, Rhett had begun to second guess his plan. He was going to get himself fired, playing stupid games like this. He nearly sloshed the salty coffee across the desk as he set it down.

If Mr. Neal noticed the growing panic in his eyes, he said nothing.

Rhett stood awkwardly at the desk edge for a moment, waiting for the man to acknowledge him. The only sign that Mr. Neal had even noticed his presence was the way his knuckles whitened in his grip of the pen. Rhett glanced at the cup, mentally begging his boss to just take a sip already. Rhett needed out of this purgatory, and all he could think to do was quietly ask, “Anything I can do for you, sir?”

“Yes, here,” Mr. Neal answered curtly, thrusting a stack of files in his general direction. Rhett had nearly turned to leave when the man took a swig of his coffee. Rhett froze, rooted to the spot as he watched him. Mr. Neal’s cheeks ballooned, and he looked like he was about to vomit. Rhett bit his lip as he watched the play of shock over Mr. Neal’s face.

“Everything alright, sir?” He asked breathlessly, palms grown damp as he pressed them against his thighs. Another long moment passed, and a dark look of epiphany passed in his boss’ expression as he swallowed. He set the mug down carefully and looked up at Rhett with sharp eyes.

“Perfectly adequate.” He wiped the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief. “Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” A sick defeat whooshed through Rhett. He stiffly nodded and returned to his desk.

He’d made serious progress on the paperwork Mr. Neal had landed him with when the comm box lit up. He jammed the button and listened with irritation as his boss coolly said, “You’ll remember my meeting with Ms. Bassett starts soon. I’ll need you to sit in on the meeting today.” The box went silent again. Rhett rolled his eyes and refused to respond.

Not much later, Lizzie strolled up from her office on the ninth floor, one arm cradling a stack of folders and a thick notepad. She wore her characteristic smug grin, lipstick pristine and bright as usual. Her smile widened when she reached Rhett’s desk.

“Hey there, handsome,” she quipped. “Is he ready to see me?”

Rhett glanced at the brass clock on the far wall and answered, “In five minutes.” She leaned against the edge of his desk and turned a loose paper towards her. Rhett apologetically reached for it and straightened up his work space. “Sorry, that’s Mr. Neal’s business.” She laughed warmly.

“Of course!” She patted his arm. “You’ll have to forgive me; I’m terribly nosy.” Rhett smiled at her candor and leaned back in his chair to better meet her eyes.

“He’s asked me to join your meeting.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she noted, “this being the Key Biscayne meeting and all.” She gave a short sigh and wistfully said, “What I’d give to go on this trip. I hear Florida’s beautiful this time of year.” Rhett found himself mentally agreeing. “A beautiful mansion, beautiful weather, beautiful men. Nothing better.” She gave him a sidelong glance, apparently waiting for some response.

“If you say so,” he said uneasily.

“Oh, come on,” she whispered with a mischievous grin. “I’m just picturing Neal lounging poolside in a speedo. I mean, _hot damn_ , am I right?” As soon as she said the words, that was the _only_  thing Rhett could picture. Something shone deep in her eyes as she watched him like a hawk, a little burst of interest. Rhett didn’t like that look.

“Honestly,” he nearly choked, “I’d go just for the bikini models. I’m a simple man.”

“Naturally,” she said, her voice lilting and teasing. Rhett realized belatedly that his fingers ached from how hard he was gripping his chair. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the door to Mr. Neal’s office swung open, and the man insinuated himself into the doorway.

“Gossip hour’s over, ladies,” he practically growled. “We’ve got work to do.” Both Lizzie and Rhett scrambled into the office behind him. As Lizzie neatly seated herself in one of the chairs across from Mr. Neal’s desk, Rhett made his way over to the small stool that had been the bane of his existence since starting the job. He rested his notepad on the desk and readied his pen to take minutes, but Mr. Neal gave him a strange look.

“You misunderstand, Rhett,” he said. “This meeting’s for you, too.” He gestured to the chair next to Lizzie’s, and Rhett wordlessly scrambled over to sit.

“So, McLasky says you’re taking over for him at the Florida meeting this year,” Lizzie noted as she sorted through her folders.

“The late nights didn’t agree with him last year,” Neal answered tersely.

“Yeah, and I imagine Mrs. McLasky isn’t too happy with your drunken carousing either,” Lizzie quipped.

“That’s frankly none of your business,” he said smoothly, but Rhett didn’t miss the way his hands were nearly fidgeting. If Lizzie knew what was good for her, she’d be more careful to toe the line where Mr. Neal was concerned.

“Of course,” she fired back, eyes rolling. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and all that jazz.”

“Hmm, Vegas,” he pondered aloud, “now there’s an idea.”

“So, you’re presenting our Center plans to the board, or…?” She trailed off expectantly. Mr. Neal quirked an eyebrow derisively as he smoothed down his tie.

“I’m presenting _my_  plans that you _consulted_  on, yes,” he corrected her. As foolish as she seemed to be, still she knew better than to belabor the point. Rhett watched the two volley quips back and forth and wondered exactly why he’d been ask to attend the meeting if not to take notes. “And before you start whining about being left out of the trip, you know perfectly well that you aren’t needed for the presentation.”

“Oh, but _he’s_  requisite personnel?” She scoffed, waving dismissively at Rhett. “No offense.” Rhett frowned, wanting to ask just exactly what the hell she meant by that dig. She turned to him and demanded, “Rhett, I need your opinion.”

“Uh, okay?” He said hesitantly, and at that moment, Mr. Neal reached for the ruler in its brass cup, the same ruler he’d used to chastise Rhett the day before, and began toying with it between his long fingers. Rhett’s belly filled with a thrilling heat. Lizzie petulantly prattled on.

“What if you had been working on a project for over six months and when it came time to present, you received no credit for your work?” She glared at Mr. Neal. “Is that fair?”

Rhett could feel two sets of eyes burning into him, but all he could do was watch the play of the ruler in Mr. Neal’s hands. He nearly melted when Mr. Neal ever so gently raised the top of the ruler and subtly tapped it against the back of his own hand. Rhett’s brain went all junked up with want, and he muttered, “No, I guess not.”

“Too right you are, Rhett,” she said with a smug lilt. “And is it fair that your partner on the project gets to go on a nice little trip with his secretary, but you’re stuck in the office pushing paper while he lounges in the sun drinking rum from a freaking coconut?” Rhett nearly couldn’t hear her bellyaching. His head was reeling as he looked up into Mr. Neal’s face only to find that he was watching Rhett with the coldest, most lethal precision. Rhett blanched.

“Well, Rhett?” Mr. Neal asked, voice low and dangerous. “Am I being unfair?” He punctuated the word with a gentle swat of the ruler against the palm of his hand, and Rhett thought he just might collapse from the warm shiver that rippled through him at the sight. He knew what the man expected him to say. Mr. Neal was playing him like a harp.

Well, not this time. Resolutely, his eyes locked in twain with Mr. Neal’s, he answered, “No, Lizzie. That isn’t fair. It isn’t fair at all.” He could practically feel her smirking next to him.

“See?” She said triumphantly. “Even Rhett thinks I should go.”

“I don’t give two shits what Rhett thinks,” Neal said coolly as he got up from his desk and walked over to the bar cart, sighing in a long-suffering way as he poured the three of them each a double scotch. It would no doubt piss Lizzie off to be served the same as a petty secretary, Rhett was sure. “He’s going, and you’re not, and you need to get the hell over it.” Finally, Rhett connected with what was being said, and he gaped at his boss as he accepted the glass of scotch.

“Wait, what?” He sputtered. Mr. Neal looked at him unkindly.

“Did I stutter?” He asked waspishly.

“I’m going to Key Biscayne.”

“Yes,” he answered as though Rhett were truly the most profound idiot to enter into his presence.

“With you?” Rhett tried to clarify.

“No, with Elton John,” Mr. Neal replied, taking a sip of his drink. “Of course, with me.”

“Well, you haven’t said anything about it,” he demanded, irritation and astonishment writ across his brow.

“Of course, I have,” his boss answered dismissively. Rhett sighed, his hands shaking at how arrogant the man was being.

“I beg your pardon, but-”

“I’m sure I told you,” Mr. Neal said in a resolute tone. Rhett shut his mouth, seeing red. “Just go get the details from Stevie. I need to have a little chat with Miss Bassett.” Rhett went to snap back, to pop off at the asshole, but he caught sight of how intently Lizzie was watching the exchange, and he shut his mouth again. He snatched up his notepad and stalked out of the room, bringing the scotch with him. Lord knew he needed it if he was going to put up with Mr. Neal for another second.

He found Stevie in her office, balancing the handset of her phone between jaw and shoulder as she typed down some notes on her typewriter. “Well, I’m just the office administrator, but I can refer you to someone who can… Yes, I see. That’ll be fine.” She gestured for Rhett to sit down. He complied. “You have a fine day, too.” She returned the phone to its cradle and looked up at him expectantly.

“Key Biscayne, Stevie?” Rhett blurted, half panicked. “He says he told me, but I have literally zero recollection.” He rubbed his beard roughly.

“That’s odd,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, I guess he plans on bringing you to help out with his presentation on the trip?” She dug around in a file cabinet behind her, labelled _Neal_. “It’s a meetup of all the company heads working on the Center Plaza Project. I guess it makes sense that he’ll need an extra set of hands. He was up shit creek when he went solo at last year’s meeting, from what I gathered.” Upon hearing that, Rhett’s anxiety clearly knew no bounds.

“What the hell am  _I_ supposed to do?” He demanded. Stevie just smiled and waved her hand.

“I actually wouldn’t worry,” she confided. “From what I heard of last year’s summit, it’s mostly just a booze up with some golf and elbow rubbing at the Plaza owner’s winter home.”

“So, why does he need me?”

“I mean,” she shrugged, “like I said, there’ll be some presentations, you know, so they can write the whole thing off as a work expense.”

“Yeah,” Rhett pressed, “but why does he need _me_?” Stevie just shrugged again and held up her hands.

“I guess you’ve proven yourself indispensable, kid,” she laughed. Rhett gave her a dubious look. “I mean, I wish I could tell you more, but you’ll have to ask Neal.”

“Yeah, well, he told me to ask you, so...” He said miserably, collapsing against his chair with his head in his hands. “This is going to be a disaster.” He looked up at her, all sympathetic smiles. With a note of hope in his voice, he said, “At least I’ll have time to prepare, right?”

“Uh,” she hesitated, sliding what appeared to be an itinerary towards him. “I mean, you leave tomorrow.”

Rhett’s brain blanked as he yanked the paper from her grasp. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he muttered as he read.

 **Friday, October 25th**  
**3:15 pm** Depart from Raleigh-Durham International Airport, gate 4  
**6:00 pm** Arrival at Staunton Manor, refresh before dinner  
**7:00 pm** Dinner in the formal dining room  
**8:30 pm**  After dinner drinks in the lounge

 **Saturday, October 26th**  
**8:00 am** Breakfast in the garden  
**9:00 am** Center Plaza progress meeting in the study  
**12:00 pm** Lunch on the terrace  
**Afternoon** Leisure time: swimming pool, tennis, massage, etc.  
**7:00 pm** Dinner in the formal dining room

 **Sunday, October 27th**  
**8:00 am** Breakfast in the garden  
**8:30 am** Depart for Crandon Golf Club  
**9:00 am** Tee off  
**12:00 pm** Lunch at the Club  
**4:00 pm** Depart from airport for Raleigh

Rhett looked up from the itinerary with half-crazed eyes and thrust the paper back at Stevie. He jumped to his feet and hissed, “I put up with a lot from that man, but this is beyond the pale.” Stevie had no chance to respond, as Rhett stormed from her office, crossed the open workspace, and barged right into Mr. Neal’s office. Lizzie turned to see his livid face, and immediately, her expression grew gleeful.

“What is the meaning of-” Mr. Neal began, but Rhett wasn’t about to let him steal his thunder.

“How dare you?” He spat, towering over his boss’ desk. “Day in, day out, I bust my ass for you. I care about doing this job well.” Mr. Neal steepled his fingers under his chin as he listened impassively. “Why do you just assume I’m able to come on this trip? Without even asking? I have a life, Mr. Neal. I had plans this weekend!” He was shaking with the restraint it required for him not to follow that tirade with a litany of slurs against Mr. Neal’s character and lineage.

Lizzie watched eagerly, just as impatient for Mr. Neal to react as Rhett was, but the man simply sat where he was, quietly eyeballing Rhett until he came down from his wave of explosive fury. Rhett suddenly felt embarrassed, foolish, childish. Maybe this would be the final straw that got him fired, he wondered, but then Mr. Neal did something even worse than firing him.

He gently smiled and said, “Lizzie, will you please close the door behind you on your way out?” Her gleeful grin immediately fell, but she knew better than to argue. Clutching her folders in one arm, she beat a hasty retreat, firmly shutting the door behind her.

The room was silent for a long while.

Rhett could feel his fate hanging in the balance as his boss gazed at him, face a complete blank. He wanted to hide, wanted to shrink down until he disappeared. He couldn’t tell if Mr. Neal was waiting for him to say something, but he took a swing anyway. “Sir, I know I shouldn’t have shouted, but-”

“Get on your knees.”

Rhett jerked. “What?” He demanded.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Rhett.” His voice was deadly calm and cool. Rhett sank down to his knees without a second thought. Mr. Neal looked down at the paperwork on his desk for a moment before he said, “You will stay on your knees until I’m ready to deal with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett whispered. Already, he could feel a tender ache in his kneecaps. Mr. Neal returned to his work, and the minutes began to tick slowly by with little to mark their passing but Mr. Neal slowly flicking through pages. The pain in Rhett’s knees had since ceded to a blooming numbness.

At length, Mr. Neal finally capped his pen and glanced over at Rhett. He rose from his chair and came to stand in front of the kneeling man. With the very tip of his index finger, he lifted Rhett’s chin until their eyes met. Rhett felt dizzy.

“Now,” Mr. Neal began, “you’ve been pushing my buttons all day, and I have the sneaking suspicion you’ve been doing it on purpose. Is that correct?” Rhett was mortified to feel his cheeks beginning to flush crimson under his boss’ close scrutiny.

“Explain yourself,” Mr. Neal demanded weakly, cracks in his facade beginning to show. Rhett felt like he had a ball gag shoved into his mouth for all the good talking would do.

At last, he blurted, “Don’t you feel better when you have control?” Mr. Neal turned away from him, at a loss for words. Rhett pushed on. “Don’t you need this, too?”

He turned back around to face Rhett, a fragile fear uncovered in his eyes. “You pulled these stunts to get my attention?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” he corrected.

“Yes, sir,” Rhett whispered.

“Good boy,” he silkily replied, and Rhett couldn’t help the shiver of pleasure that chased after those words. “Well, if it’s my attention you wanted, you’ve got it.”

A breath of giddy relief flooded through Rhett. “Well, finally.”

Mr. Neal stepped up to Rhett again, gazing down reverently on Rhett’s upturned face. “Now, I want you to tell me exactly how you’ve done wrong today.” Rhett swallowed hard, his palms and armpits soaking with sweat.

“I…” He took a steadying breath. “I put salt in your coffee.”

“That’s one,” he tallied. “What’s two?”

“I sided with Lizzie in the meeting,” Rhett muttered. He finally broke eye contact with his boss. Mr. Neal’s eyes cut through him too sharply.

“Eyes on me,” he gently demanded, lifting Rhett’s chin once again. “And three?”

“I shouted at you, sir.”

“Yes, you did,” Mr. Neal affirmed. He swiped his thumb across Rhett’s lower lip, dragging a mortified whimper from the man. “I’ve thought for awhile about how best to deal with your disrespect.” He turned away from Rhett and returned to his seat. “I could make you drink the rest of the coffee.” He gestured to the cup still perched on his desk. “Or… I could leave you there on your knees for another hour to think about how you’ve been behaving.” Rhett swallowed hard around the erratic pulse in his throat.

“You… you could use the ruler on me again.” He trained his eyes on the floor as he spoke, hope and hesitation ringing clearly in his voice.

“Oh, you want me to spank you, do you?” Mr. Neal asked, frankly amused at the proposition. Rhett couldn’t bring himself to answer, even though his entire body screamed yes at the idea. At length, Mr. Neal softly laughed. “No, I won’t be spanking you today. In fact, I’m not going to punish you at all.” Rhett nearly sagged with disappointment and frustration. “But I want you to apologize. Show me some genuine contrition.”

Rhett sighed, “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again.”

“Try again.” He said it with a smile. Rhett hesitated, and Mr. Neal’s eyes narrowed. “Try again.”

Rhett tried a different tack. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and in a fraction of a moment, his whole demeanor changed, like he was channeling Mata Hari as he whispered, “I was _really_  naughty today, sir, and I’m begging you to forgive me.” He batted his lashes laconically. “Pretty please, Mr. Neal.”

Mr. Neal laughed warmly and shook his head. “Try again. Come here.” Rhett shakily lowered himself onto all fours and deliberately crawled until he came to stop at the toes of Mr. Neal’s polished black boots. Mr. Neal’s eyes had gone dark with some unnameable emotion. “Good, good boy.” He ran a hand through Rhett’s thick hair. “Do you like my boots, Rhett? They’re new.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett panted, trying his damnedest to ignore the way his body was singing.

“Why don’t you give them a kiss?” He said in a voice like crushed velvet. “One kiss for each thing you’d like to apologize for.” Rhett’s arms shook, threatening to give out as he lowered himself down to press his dark lips against the shiny leather of Mr. Neal’s boots. He could feel his boss’ low, rumbling voice falling all over his body as the man sighed, “Yes, Rhett. A nice, slow kiss like that. Two more.”

Rhett blushed anew to see the thin string of saliva he’d left on the pristine boot. He sank down again, pressing his lips firmly against the other boot toe. He held his lips there for two long breaths before pulling away. He looked up at Mr. Neal, his breathing rough as he asked, “Is there somewhere else you’d like me to put the last kiss?”

Danger flashed in his boss’ eyes, but he merely said, “Do as you’ve been told, Rhett.” He nodded and sank back down, pressing a kiss to the boot once more. His heart surged with triumph when he heard Mr. Neal’s shaky sigh above him. “Okay, very good.”

Rhett pushed himself back onto his knees and wiped his arm across his mouth. He gave his boss a playful smile and asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he answered darkly, tracing a line down the seam of his slacks with one long finger.

“Tell me what you want,” Rhett whispered.

“Go home and pack,” Mr. Neal commanded, all professionalism and decorum. “We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”


	6. Chapter 6

By lunchtime on Friday, the office had emptied out as usual. The sole exception sat at his desk in front of his boss’ office, growling irritably into his phone.

“I already told you,” Rhett spat, “it’s none of your business why I’m leaving this weekend.” An angry voice trickled through the earpiece, and Rhett sighed as he rubbed at his beard. “Well, you’ve made that abundantly clear already.” The voice on the other line softened, and Rhett’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Oh my god, you asshole, this is _not_ how you ask someone to go steady with you.” He froze when the door behind him opened, and he whipped around to find his boss leaning against the doorframe.

“Is that a personal call?” He asked simply.

“Gregg, I gotta go,” Rhett mumbled into the handpiece before plunking it back down on the base. Suddenly overcome with embarrassment, he stammered, “I thought you were still meeting with Atacama. When did you get back?”

“Earlier,” came the terse reply. “Was that a personal call?” Rhett fought the urge to stare down at his hands.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. “Sorry.”

“If I catch you making personal calls again,” Mr. Neal said crisply, “you won’t be pleased with the consequences.”

“I understand,” he answered, dismayed to find that the man’s tone and sharp eyes had left his pulse elevated, an inescapable call and response. He took a deep breath, withering under the man’s steady gaze.

“Good,” Mr. Neal said with finality. “Now, I need eight copies of these, bound.” He handed Rhett a stack of papers. “Twelve of these,” he said, handing him another stack, “and two of these.” Rhett glanced down at the tall stack of work on his desk, and he tried his best not to upset the pile as he stood to make his way to the copy room. “Be sure to pack it to bring along with us. The taxi should arrive at one. I want you ready by 12:50.”

Time passed quickly with the new pile of work, which he packed into a brown banker’s box. He checked his watch, then made his way over to Mr. Neal’s office and rapped his knuckles against the frame as he leaned in to find Mr. Neal bent over his drafting table, running a hand through his hair, his brow knit with frustration. He was tapping a pencil against his full lips as he scrutinized the plans in front of him.

“Enter,” the man drawled, not looking up from his work.

“The taxi should be here soon, sir,” Rhett offered timidly, not keen on the idea of tearing Mr. Neal away from a project that so captured his attention. He glanced at his watch and sighed, rolling up the blueprint he’d been poring over and slipping it into a protective cardboard sleeve.

The two men silently gathered their luggage and parcels and made their way down to the street outside. The taxi had already arrived, and a surly looking man was leaned against the side, smoking a cigarette. When he noticed the men approach, he snubbed it out on the concrete with the toe of his worn loafer and helped Rhett load up the trunk.

The drive to the airport was quiet and thick with a sort of tension that made Rhett feel sweaty and intrusive. His boss was clearly agitated, judging by how his knee bounced and his long fingers fidgeted with the edge of his tie. He slipped his glasses off to clean them, then slid them back on and then off again to repeat the ritual. The glum scowl never left his face. Rhett instinctively knew it would be utterly ridiculous to ask the man how he was feeling. They remained in uncomfortable silence until they reached the airport.

“Follow me,” Mr. Neal called out behind him as a porter in an official-looking uniform took their bags and parcels from them. Rhett hurried to catch up, lugging the strap of his carry-on over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He called out. “Don’t we have to check in?” Mr. Neal slowed, turning his head to address Rhett, who now loped next to him.

“We’re not flying public,” he said with an air of disdain. “Ever been on a private jet before?”

Rhett suddenly felt a bit abashed to admit, “I’ve actually never flown before, period.” The dark haired man suddenly stopped in his tracks, and Rhett stumbled a bit as they slowed. Mr. Neal looked at him with a curious quirk of his eyebrow.

“Really?” He asked. “This is your first time?” Rhett looked away and shrugged. “Well…” He didn’t finish the thought, merely clutched his briefcase tighter and continued the walk down the long airport corridor until they reached a non-descript side door with a numerical keypad. Mr. Neal punched in the code, and when the door opened, they passed into a large, cozy waiting area next to a wall of windows overlooking the runway. An immaculately dressed receptionist smiled up at them from the welcome desk, and Mr. Neal pulled out two boarding passes and a laminated ID card.

“Charles Neal, plus one,” he said to the woman as he leaned against the desk.

“Welcome to Raleigh-Durham, Mr. Neal,” she said brightly, as she dug through a stack of reports before her.

“Please, call me ‘Link,’” he said suavely, and the woman gave him a bashful grin. Rhett nearly rolled his eyes.

“Of course, Link,” she purred. “Your flight is on track to take off at 3:15. A member of staff will join you shortly to assist you in boarding.” Mr. Neal nodded, taking the boarding passes back from the pretty woman. He gestured to Rhett that they should go sit in front of the window while they waited. Rhett slung his olive canvas duffle bag down between his feet and slunk back to watch the liftoff and landing of planes. He gave his boss a sidelong glance, which the man caught.

“What?” He asked with amusement.

“Oh, nothing,” he airily, his eyes rolling as a smile took over his face. “ _Link_.” He figured his boss could use a little brevity, but he quickly realized he was dead wrong as the man’s eyes grew hooded and his lips drew tight over clenched teeth. Slowly, Mr. Neal slid one hand over Rhett’s, his fingers leaving tantalizing shivers where they brushed his skin, until he wrapped his hand around Rhett's wrist and tightened a vice like grip around it. He nearly moaned, but from the pain or just shock, he wasn’t sure.

Mr. Neal leaned his head in and softly informed him, “You do not have permission to use that name.” Rhett whimpered. “Is that understood?” Rhett nodded minutely. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett whispered, and immediately Mr. Neal relinquished his grip to rub soothing circles over the aching joint. Rhett watched the man’s fingers work, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being observed, and his heart suddenly grew sluggish and heavy. Mr. Neal’s hand on his wrist almost tender and sweet. Rhett wondered if he could feel his heart racing through his pulse point.

“All better?” He asked when he pulled his hand away.

“Yes, thank you.”

They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and Rhett jerked upright, away from Mr. Neal’s comforting warmth. Within moments, they were ushered down a flight of stairs and through sliding glass doors that opened up onto the tarmac. Their attendant, a spritely elderly man, drove them on a cart out to where sat a small jet, shining brightly in the sun. Rhett’s head began to spin as they climbed the stairs up to the entrance. He wanted to tell his boss that he felt like a movie star, but he crushed the giddiness down into his belly.

If the outside was impressive, it was paltry in comparison to the stunning interior. Towards the front of the cabin was a sleek executive desk flanked by eight plush leather chairs. Further towards the back lay a stylish sofa with armchairs and a fully stocked bar cart. They were greeted by a cheerful, svelte, blonde stewardess in a crisp and flattering canary yellow uniform, a jaunty cap pinned smartly to her pristine French twist.

“Well, if it isn’t the goddess of the skies!” Mr. Neal said smoothly. “It’s been too long, Loretta.”

“Welcome back, Link!” She said with a megawatt smile. Rhett watched his boss greet the woman with a smile and a lingering gaze. She turned to Rhett and asked, “And Mr…?”

“McLaughlin,” Rhett answered as he dropped his bag onto the nearest seat, eyes wide as he began to take in his surroundings. He wandered over to the sofa and dropped down onto it experimentally. He watched his boss begin to unload some papers and blueprints onto the conference table. It seemed that Mr. Neal wasn’t prepared to let himself relax for the duration of their flight.

“Gentlemen,” Loretta began, edging over to the bar cart, “what can I get you to drink?” Mr. Neal glanced up at her from the papers on his desk, his eyebrow playfully quirked. She laughed. “The usual, then?”

“But of course,” he purred, and when she turned to Rhett for his order, Rhett found himself looking to his boss for instruction. “He’ll have the same.” She bent over the bar, pouring two double scotches, and Rhett very studiously ignored the way Mr. Neal watched the woman’s rear-end openly. She set down Rhett’s drink on the armrest of the sofa first before making her way over to the other man.

“Double Lagavulin, no ice,” she said warmly, sliding the cool drink into his hands. “Just the way you like it.”

“How much are they paying you to bartend?” He joked. “I’ll double it.”

“You can’t afford me,” she quipped back. When Rhett realized he’d been clenching his jaw, he took a quick sip of his drink. It went down cold and bitter. “Will you two be needing anything to eat?” She received a playfully ravenous look from cool blue eyes then, and the soft laughter she gave nearly made Rhett’s toes curl.

After a moment, Mr. Neal finally said, “No, we won’t be needing anything else.” She nodded. “Kick up your heels. We’ll call if something comes up.”

“You got it, Link,” she said in a winsome voice. “By the way, we’re taking off soon, so brace yourselves,” she added and then made her way to the very back of the plane, disappearing behind a thick, sturdy door which hid the staff quarters. Rhett quickly buckled himself in and dug his hands into the sofa cushion, tensely waiting. Mr. Neal glanced over at him with a hidden smile, but he said nothing.

Takeoff was smooth and swift, and once they’d reached elevation, Rhett pulled a copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ from his bag and reclined on the sofa to read quietly. His boss rose from his seat and went to unfurl the blueprints on the conference table. He began to pore over them once again with intense scrutiny. A traitorous bubble worked its way up from Rhett’s belly and through his verbal dam before he could stop it.

“She’s pretty,” he noted pointedly, not looking up from his page. He knew he didn’t have to specify whom exactly he was referring to. He could hear his boss pause.

“Is she?” He asked blandly. “I hadn’t noticed.” Rhett quirked a brow and returned to reading for a while. Two chapters of his book later, Rhett was pulled from his story by an exasperated sigh from across the cabin. He glanced over at his boss, who seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown over the blueprints. Rhett set down his book, sighed, and walked over to him on unsteady feet, his tall body leaning over his boss’ shoulder to spy on his work.

“What’s the problem, sir?” He asked softly.

“Like you could help,” Link scoffed, sourly scratching at a loose sheet of calculations and half-hatched sketches. He tried to ignore the warmth of Rhett standing so closely. Rhett cocked his head and looked more closely at the blueprint, a plan for the bottom floor of one of the Center Plaza buildings.

“It’s the drainage right here, isn’t it?” He asked, poking the blueprint with a long index finger. “You’re using an F system, right? That’s gonna cut right into the power mains running from the entrance to the street hookups.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked waspishly. Rhett pondered the draft a moment longer.

“Wouldn’t a Mini system work just fine here? I mean, it’s shallower, but it oughtta do the trick. And you could always swap to an S system further down to accommodate…” He trailed off as he felt Mr. Neal’s eyes boring into him, brow twisted with incredulity. “What?”

Mr. Neal’s dry lips parted a moment before uttering, “How… ” Rhett drew back from the table, a little bashful at having been caught out.

“Oh, I…” he stammered, “I went to school for civil engineering.” His boss’ incredulity was blatant at this point. “I didn’t finish though,” he amended, pulling the pencil out of his boss’ hand with a little grin as he leaned back in to explain himself. “Here’s the thing, if you just move... _this_ bit of grating slightly this way, then an F system actually _would_ work where you put it,” he explained, sketching tiny, ghosted lines over Mr. Neal’s work on the blueprint.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as their eyes connected. Mr. Neal turned around to full face Rhett, their bodies close together. Standing so close, Rhett had to crane his neck down to maintain eye contact, as Mr. Neal refused to raise his chin. Slowly, he took the pencil from Rhett’s hand and then snapped it down on top of the desk. Rhett flinched.

“The next time,” Mr. Neal said through clenched teeth, “I need professional advice, you can be sure I won’t ask an undergrad drop out.” Rhett stepped back, suddenly profoundly regretting his great idea to interject where not needed. Mr. Neal followed his steps, jabbed a finger into his chest, opened his mouth to speak, but before any words could escape, he seemed to think better of it. His finger dropped, and he turned away to face his work again. Rhett could feel a wall whooshing down between the two of them. The rigid line of frustration and anger in Mr. Neal’s posture snapped back into place. The man ran one hand haphazardly through his hair before balling both into fists on the table.

Rhett watched in silence for a moment as he went back to scratching angry marks on his scratch sheet. He took a steadying breath and hesitated before stating simply, “You’re mad at me.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” was the snapped reply. Rhett bent over a seat back, fishing something from his boss’ briefcase. He calmly sidled back up to the man’s side. There was a flash of warning in his boss’ eyes when he turned to face Rhett.

Rhett softly said, “Hit me.”

“What?”

“You’re pissed off,” he said with careful nonchalance, his face frozen with a cautious smile. He was annoyed to feel the way his pulse jumped rapidly in his throat. “You’re a ball of nerves. You’re worried about your presentation.” He licked his dry lips, clocking the way his boss’ eyes dipped to follow the motion. “And now you just got showed up by your secretary.”

“You didn’t show me up,” he hissed.

“Whatever,” Rhett spat. He slapped the ruler down on the table. “Just hit me.”

Mr. Neal’s nostrils flared with sharp breath. He damn near shook with rising anger. He swallowed thickly, his mouth incredibly dry, his head spinning. He picked up the ruler in one strong hand and slowly caressed Rhett’s cheek with its unyielding edge. “You know,” he rasped, “I really ought to. For your insolence.”

“You know you can,” Rhett whispered.

“Of course, I can,” he drawled, and in a movement that ripped the air from Rhett’s lungs, Mr. Neal whipped the ruler all the way back. Rhett’s eyes fluttered shut, and he braced himself for impact. He heard a lethal whoosh of movement, but the fall never landed. The ruler slammed into the far wall of the cabin and clattered to the floor. “But I don’t think dear, sweet Gregg would be happy with me marking my territory on your hide.”

Rhett’s face fell blank in his confusion. “But Gregg-” He wasn’t able to finish his thought, as the service door swung open and Loretta noisily made her way up to them with a tray bearing a crystal dish of peanuts and a stack of neatly rolled steamed towels.

“Hot towel?” She asked brightly. The two practically glared at her for a moment, and her smile withered at the edges. “I’ll just leave them here,” she muttered, setting the tray down on the conference table. She cut a hasty retreat, just about slamming the door behind her on her way out.  
“Look,” Rhett began, but Mr. Neal held up one finger, and the man fell silent. Mr. Neal gazed down at the steaming pile of towels and plucked one up.

“You know,” he muttered, “I’m tired of your chatter.” He looked up at Rhett. “Open your mouth. Wide.” Rhett’s eyes went round and owlish, but he opened his mouth as he was told, his little lips rounding as he stretched open wide. “Silence is golden,” Mr. Neal said firmly as he planted the warm roll of towel squarely between Rhett's teeth. The man grunted in surprise. Mr. Neal smiled, grabbing another towel which he slid into Rhett’s hand. “I’m tired,” he said pointedly. “Fix that.”

With that, he sank down into a chair and leaned forward slightly. Rhett took the invitation, and with mouth still fully plugged, he shook the towel loose and placed it onto the back of Mr. Neal’s neck. He wanted to ask all manner of questions, _Like this?_ and _What else can I do for you, sir?_ , and as he started to press sure, firm fingers into the knots of his boss’ shoulders, _How is this, Mr. Neal?_ and _Am I making you feel good, sir?_

He knew that talk was the last thing Mr. Neal needed at that exact moment, so he clamped his teeth down on the towel, feeling his saliva pool around it, and rubbed his boss’ neck harder. The man gave a shaky sigh, and Rhett felt just positively golden for a while because of that.

“Thank you, Rhett,” Mr. Neal said after a while. “That’ll do.” Rhett hummed a tune that meant the man was welcome, and Mr. Neal looked up at him with half-glazed eyes. “Go back to your book now, but don’t you dare remove that towel. You’ll keep that in your mouth until the end of the flight.” Rhett’s eyes went wide. “Yes, even if Loretta comes back in here.”

Rhett found himself staring imploringly down into Mr. Neal’s impassive eyes, silently willing the man to reconsider. He only found that his boss was resolute, unyielding in this order. He realized shortly after that his palms had gone all sweaty and his heart was racing. He shook his head vigorously and returned to his seat in the back of the cabin.

Mr. Neal went back to scribbling a few more lines on his scratch sheet, and soon after, he rolled up the blueprints and slipped them back into their tube with a satisfied sigh. He took a seat in a chair across from Rhett and within seconds, his head sank back, his mouth fell open, and he began to snore lightly. Rhett nearly smiled around the gag in his mouth, and he returned to reading his book.

Even Loretta coming back into the cabin to notify them their flight was about to land, her eyes round with shock at the sight of Rhett’s stuffed mouth, his cheeks burning red, wasn’t enough to make him stop grinning like an idiot.


	7. Chapter 7

The towncar that awaited them at the airport was a sleek, black little number, and Rhett felt distinctly out of place as the driver situated their suitcases in the trunk. No sooner had the man slammed the trunk shut when Mr. Neal murmured, “Stop fidgeting.” Rhett immediately flattened his palms against the tops of his thighs.

The drive was long, and a continuous string of bistros, salsa clubs, and palm trees flashed past them, thinning eventually to long stretches of empty country road until they were ushered into a vast, gated community dotted with stately homes and great swathes of neatly manicured landscaping. The car finally slowed, winding onto a pebbled drive which led to an ornate, wrought-iron gate fitted with a brass call box. Rhett had to remind himself to still his drum-beating fingers as he licked his dry lips. A moment passed, and a small, elderly man hobbled into view and slowly pulled open the gate, bidding them pass through down the long, winding drive.

The moment the house came into view, Rhett’s eyes went saucer-like. The drive looped in a circle around an array of tall, swaying palm trees flanking a marble fountain, and the house stood tall and proud amongst the lush greenery, all meticulously planned and neatly manicured in a way that left Rhett acutely aware of the balance of his bank account. Rhett couldn’t see the yard, but he reckoned it most likely backed out onto the beach. As the car came to a halt before the grand entrance of the house, Rhett heaved a sigh that left him slumped against the black leather.

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Mr. Neal asked with a tiny grin.

“I’ll say,” came Rhett’s blushing reply, and before Mr. Neal could lean in to whisper a teasing retort, the door clicked open, and they looked up towards the entrance, where a barrel-chested man with a pleasant face and crisp linen clothes waited to greet them.

“Charles Neal, you old bastard,” he barked with a contagious grin as he reached to shake the man’s hand. “Benson hasn’t fired you yet?” Rhett watched his boss laugh easily and warmly with the man, and for a brief moment, a morose, grey fog filled his chest. He ignored it. Their driver busied himself with setting the men’s suitcases down at the base of the short staircase that led up to the front doors.

“Well, no one else wants to put up with your drunk ass,” he quipped. The other man bellowed with laughter. At length, he turned to Rhett and extended his broad hand.

“Mike Feldman,” he announced with a twinkling smile as Rhett shook his hand. Feldman wrenched his hand free and glanced down to assess the damage. “Firm handshake you got there. And you are…?” Rhett went to speak, but Mr. Neal cut in with a monotone drawl, silencing him immediately.

“My associate, Rhett McLaughlin.” Feldman’s eyes flicked between the two men.

“Your associate?” He asked, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“My secretary,” Mr. Neal replied, his voice gone a little tight and tepid.

“Interesting,” Feldman muttered as though to himself, but then he took a breath and announced as he turned on his heel, “Well, if you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to your rooms. Micah’s off running errands, else I’d have him do it.”

“Yeah, yeah, Feldman,” Mr. Neal sniped, “we all know you’re a very important man.”

“Watch it, or I’ll make you sleep in a broom closet,” Feldman sniped back, and despite his colleague’s cheek, he led them through the open, bright entry, up a flight of stairs, and down a long corridor lined with ferns and paintings of ships and framed antique maps. “Okay, you’ll be down here in the east wing. Rhett, here’s your room,” he paused to gesture to a door. A couple yards down the hallway, Feldman stopped at the next door. “And this one’s yours, Link.” Mr. Neal nodded with an easy smile, and again, Rhett felt his chest tighten with a funny, dark sadness. Feldman stalked down the hallway as he said, “Dinner’s in an hour. I trust you can find the dining room.”

Rhett and Mr. Neal remained in the hallway for a moment after Feldman had disappeared down the corridor. Rhett awkwardly switched his suitcase from his right hand to his left, needing to hide from the world for a little while before reappearing to meet the rest of his boss’ colleagues.

“Well, I’ll see you at din-” He said, but Mr. Neal grabbed his wrist as Rhett turned. His eyes were sharp and clear, and he looked at Rhett in a way that brought fearful shivers wriggling up his spine.

“Tonight at dinner, you won’t drink alcohol,” he whispered like cold sea winds whipping against a rocky coast, “and you will only have one serving of dinner. Is that understood?”

“Do _what_ now?” Rhett sputtered.

“You heard me.”

Rhett glanced down at the man’s tight grip on his wrist, and his heart gave a lurch. He schooled his features. “Am I being punished?”

“You’re being reminded.”

“Of?”

“Your position,” Mr. Neal answered. “You do what I say, because I said so.” Mr. Neal broke eye contact with Rhett as he spoke, and it nearly drove Rhett insane. The tightness in his chest crept like vines throughout him now, and he had to fight to swallow it all down.

He cleared his throat. “And am I allowed salt and pepper, sir?” The pale flash of Mr. Neal’s eyes meeting his felt like being forced into an oxygen mask. The man’s toothy grin made the heady sensation even worse.

“If you behave yourself,” he answered almost sweetly. “Oh, and-” His breath hitched in a way that seemed to break the dam of Rhett’s libido, his body gushing with an intensely hot curiosity. Mr. Neal grinned again, his eyes trained on Rhett’s lips. He pulled Rhett a fraction closer and whispered, “I sincerely hope you brought that ascot with you.” Mr. Neal smelled warm, like cedar, and Rhett was sure the man could feel his erratic pulse in his wrist.

“Would-” He sighed. “Would you like me to wear it for you?”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.”

The way the man said it, Rhett thought his skin was suddenly on too tight. His mouth was too dry, and it was a little hard to breathe when every breath was the man’s gorgeous cologne. The hallway was too hot and bright and exposed. He needed to leave, but he wanted to stay, because that look in Mr. Neal’s eyes was new and terrifying, and he was sure that if he left then, he’d be missing something great.

“Well, I guess I can do that for you.” He said it so softly, it floated in the air between them. He stepped a little closer, gazing down into his boss’ upturned face. He’d never seen those blue eyes so open or so soft before. Rhett had the fleeting thought that maybe they should get out of the hall. He broke the tense silence. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” His heart practically tried to escape his body when he saw Mr. Neal swipe his lower lip with his tongue. Rhett pressed on haphazardly now. “I could… help you unwind… somehow.”

“And what exactly did you have in mind, Rhett?” Mr. Neal whispered, his fingers on Rhett’s wrist tight like a vice now, like he’d never let him go. Rhett cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you could come help me with my ascot?” He said breathlessly. Mr. Neal looked at him long and hard, and he pulled Rhett down by the wrist. Rhett’s body lit with triumph and his eyes flickered shut for what he knew was coming next. He’d been waiting so long for this, and he had only just that moment come to realize it. He was surprised to feel Mr. Neal’s lips not against his own but rather brushing against his ear.

“I’m sure a big boy like you can tie his own ascot,” he whispered, and in the span of a heartbeat, he’d turned to his door, valise in hand. “See you in an hour.” He promptly shut the door in Rhett’s thunderstruck face. Rhett’s mouth fell open. He fought the urge to laugh deliriously.

“You fucking bastard.”

His ire faded for the few moments it took to take in the lavish bedroom. The room was bright with tropical sunlight, which lilted upon gold and teal walls; a massive bed over-decorated with heaps of velvety throw pillows; massive pots of monstera plants; and ornate drapes pulled aside to reveal French doors leading to a balcony. He had a half a mind to just spend the entire weekend in that very spot, if it meant he didn’t have to play any more head games with the man staying next door.

 

It had been easy enough to find the dining room. Rhett had just followed the trail of rich laughter and earthy cigar smoke through the downstairs corridor into a grand, vaulted room walled with handsome oak panels and furnished with a carved mahogany dining table and richly upholstered dining chairs. The back wall of the room boasted large windows, valanced in burgundy velvet, that opened up on the massive backyard and its seaside view. Rhett glanced above the table with a nearly childlike awe; he’d never seen a chandelier that stunning in real life before.

“Ah, Rhett! What are you drinking tonight?” Feldman came through a door to his right, and Rhett jolted, making a smooth recovery as he turned to face the man. Feldman waited for an answer, blinking as the seconds ticked. Mr. Neal had appeared in the doorway behind him, and Rhett was busy drowning in the brewing storm he found there.

He cleared his throat and replied, “Tap water.” Mr. Neal gave the barest nod of his head, but Feldman was not so easily pleased.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he countered. “Highball?”

“Just tap water, thanks.” Rhett rubbed his palms against his thighs as Feldman shrugged and picked up a clean glass from the rack next to the wet bar.

“Alrighty, then,” he answered with a quirked brow. “Ice?”

“Room temp,” Rhett muttered.

When he glanced back up at the doorway, Mr. Neal mouthed the words, “Good boy.” Rhett’s heart flooded with giddy pride, and he had to look away from Mr. Neal before he could see the silly grin neither beard nor moustache could hide. He took the glass of lukewarm water from their host and gave him a grateful nod.

“Now, Rhett,” Feldman said, turning towards the door, “come on into the drawing room. You need to meet the other guys.” Something in Feldman’s tone spoke to something in Rhett, and he immediately followed without a word. Mr. Neal hadn’t budged in the doorway, and as Rhett passed, he felt Mr. Neal’s fingers grasp his wrist.

He whispered shortly into the shell of Rhett’s ear, “You’re late.” If he thought he’d get an apology, he was sorely mistaken. Rhett had no interest in explaining himself to Mr. Neal, not after whatever the hell had happened in the hall earlier.

“Ascot issues,” he hissed, pulling his wrist free.

Feldman was already speaking to a group of younger men all sat around the sitting room with drinks in hand, a couple smoking cigars, all dressed in varying shades of brown and dark blue. Rhett immediately regretted his tight, polyester shirt and flirty ascot. He ached to run back to his room to grab a sports coat or anything to throw over the loud ensemble, but he knew that wouldn’t be allowed. His grip was tight on his glass, and his jaw ground down until it ached, but then he felt Mr. Neal place a discrete hand on the small of his back, just for one brief moment as the man passed to go sit in one of the oversized leather armchairs, and Rhett’s agony cooled.

“Gentlemen, this is Rhett, an associate of Link’s,” Feldman announced to the group, and immediately, a stocky, handsome young ginger came to shake Rhett’s hand.

“I’m Micah,” he said with an eager intensity that made Rhett immediately like the man. “I’m Mr. Feldman’s associate.” Rhett echoed his big, sheepish smile and was about to respond when his attention was stolen by two other young men vying to make his acquaintance. The first was tall and reedy, and he wore a sour, bored expression on his thinly bearded face. He was a rather perfect character foil to the pleasant bleach blond man who introduced the two of them.

“Alex Punch,” the blond said as he vigorously shook Rhett’s hand. “And he’s Mike. We’re the head architects working on the Center Plaza project.”

“Oh, yes,” Rhett noted brightly, “I’ve routed some of your calls.” He cringed as he realized what the admission revealed about his position within the company, but the comment seemed to pass unheeded as his attention was directed to the next man in their group.

“Kevin Kostelnik, urban planning,” a brunette of medium-build in tweed announced as he shook Rhett’s hand.

“He means City Permit Bitch,” the final man gruffly cut in, and the rest of the group laughed at Kevin’s good-natured protest. The jokester smiled and added, “And I’m John Warder, head of construction.”

“He thinks he’s big shit,” Feldman gibed, and John took a swig of his scotch.

“At least I know my shit stinks,” he volleyed back with a waggle of his eyebrows, “unlike _some_ I could name,” and Mr. Neal belly laughed, his head thrown back and eyes screwed shut. Rhett couldn’t look away from the man, even in spite of his irritation with his boss. He’d never heard the man laugh that way before. He licked the smile from his lips and choked down a gulp of tepid water.

Feldman glanced over at Micah and asked, “Go check if dinner is ready.” Micah darted up from his seat.

“Yes, sir,” he answered and hurried to do as he was told. A moment later, he appeared through the doorway again and gave his boss a curt nod.

The eight men filed into the dining room, taking their places around the dinner table, where they found that steaming platters of roast beef, baked potatoes, roasted vegetables, and buttered rolls had been placed among the settings of fine china, crystal wine glasses, glittering silverware, and freshly pressed napkins. Rhett’s hunger made itself known with a loud, rumbling growl.

“Gosh, I could eat a horse,” he declared as he sat, and he fought the tremble in his voice as Mr. Neal wordlessly sank into the seat next to him. They each helped themselves to the food on the table, serving up massive portions and chatting brightly about the smell and look of it all. Rhett gathered up a rather thick stack of roast beef slices, but when he felt the nudge of Mr. Neal’s knee against his, he obediently let half the stack fall back to the serving dish. He sighed and brought the paltry serving to his plate.

Conversation faltered as the men tore into their meal, and the silence remained as they ate. Rhett tried to eat slowly, but he hadn’t been joking when he said he could eat a horse, and in just a couple short minutes his plate was completely clean. He glanced over at Feldman, just in time to see Micah quietly pour the man another glass of wine. Feldman gave the young man the softest smile. Rhett couldn’t look away. Perhaps he could feel Rhett staring, because he glanced over and raised his glass in a toast.

His brow scrunched, and he demanded, “Rhett, what are you waiting for? Get seconds!”

Mr. Neal paused in cutting his roast beef to interject, “He’s watching his weight.” A scoff sounded from the other end of the table.

“No booze, no seconds,” John sneered. “C’mon, man! That’s no way to live.”

Feldman simply set down his knife and fork, peering directly into Rhett’s stormy eyes as he patiently commanded, “Rhett, eat some more.”

“Feldman,” came Mr. Neal’s voice, surely louder and sharper than he intended, “he doesn’t need you telling him what to do.” Rhett nearly lost himself to the audacity of such a statement coming from such a man. Throwing caution to the wind, and caving finally to the agonizing irritation of Mr. Neal’s carefully calculated distance, Rhett just took a deep breath.

“You know what, Feldman?” He said mildly. “I think I’ll take some of that wine.” Rhett didn’t need to look at Mr. Neal to know without a shadow of a doubt that the man was furious. Rhett already knew he’d fucked up royally.

“Rhett, tell your boss to lighten up!” Feldman chuckled, handing over the nearly fully wine glass. “Say, ‘Link, you need to lighten up!’ Go on, tell him.” _Oh, well._ He’d already fucked up this bad, and if this meant that Mr. Neal would bring down his colossal walls just for a fraction of a second, it’d be worth it. He turned to his boss, looking down into eyes that promised bloody murder and hellfire.

“Link,” Rhett whispered voice gone husky with nerves, “you need to lighten up.” He took a slow, deliberate sip of wine, perversely enjoying the tiny cracks springing forth in Mr. Neal’s facade. It started around his mouth first, a minute twitch of the left upper lip. His nostrils flared not long after. His jaw grew tight, and his breathing was stunted and erratic. Rhett took another sip, but it was one too many for Mr. Neal. The man shoved away from the table and drew himself up with lethal dignity.

“I’m tired,” he announced. “I’ll join you all for breakfast in the morning.” With that, he stalked out of the room despite the vocal protests of his colleagues. Rhett made to follow after him, but Feldman waved him down.

“Just finish your meal, Rhett,” he said. “Link’s fine.”

The end of dinner couldn’t come fast enough for Rhett, and he excused himself from post-dinner cigars in the drawing room, making for the upstairs as quickly as was polite. He’d made it up one step when he heard footsteps following him.

 

“Hey, Rhett,” Micah called out, and Rhett paused in his retreat. “You got a minute?”

“Of course,” he answered, fighting with the need to climb the stairs and go find his boss in a deliciously stressed out, cranky, vicious tizzy. Micah loped over to him and leaned in close against the stair railing.

“So,” he whispered conspiratorially, “I hear your boss is a bit of a tyrant.” He crooked his neck to look all the way up at Rhett’s face.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Rhett said automatically. “He knows what he wants, and sure, he has high expectations, but-”

“But you get rewarded handsomely for meeting those expectations?” He asked delicately. He bubbled with some kind of energy that Rhett was ill-equipped to understand, but he somehow knew implicitly that Micah was on his side, whatever side that may be. It was frankly disarming and ironically left Rhett feeling wary.

“Not as such, no,” Rhett said stiffly.

“Pity,” Micah sympathized before adding in an eager gushing sort of way, “But I know, as for myself, if I’ve screwed up, I don’t mind accepting the consequences.” He looked up intently at Rhett then. “It’s really freeing, you know, a firm hand when you’ve done wrong. Isn’t it?”

Rhett glared down at him, wide-eyed, mouth quivering. Micah’s calm, sweet face didn’t budge. “I… I suppose so. Look, I’ve gotta go-” He pushed away from the railing and began to make his way up the stairs towards his bedroom.

“Hey,” Micah called out, and Rhett jerked around to hear what he had to say. A serious, imploring expression morphed Micah’s charming face when he said evenly, “Your hard work deserves rewards, too, not just rebukes. And not only for your sake. His, too.”

Rhett felt hot and dizzy. He didn’t know how, but he somehow knew with the same clarity as before that Micah could see through him and was on his side, and it was absolutely terrifying. A horrid desperation bubbled up inside him, forcing out a croaked, cobwebby, “But how?”

Micah oozed a kind of sun-drenched placidity as he broadly grinned and said, “Communication.” He nodded his head at Rhett and said, “G’night.”

 

Fear kept Rhett from knocking on his boss’ door.

Communication was a hell of a lot harder than changing into his striped blue pajamas and slipping into his soft, deep bed without addressing the way his blood still zinged through his body. He only got a few pages into his book when he realized he’d been reading the same paragraph over and over without retaining a single word. He snapped the novel down on the bedside table and flicked the switch on the lamp, grumpily hunkering down into his pillows.

After some time had passed, he noticed a strange tapping noise coming from the room next door. It was faint, almost imaginary, but Rhett followed the rhythmic beat for a while. It finally stopped. A breath of a moment later, he heard the mattress shift and soon after, the unmistakable sound of pacing footsteps followed.

Rhett sighed in defeat and pulled the covers away from his long frame and swung up from the bed. He padded barefoot into the hallway and stood before Mr. Neal’s door. He rapped his knuckles gently against the solid oak. “Sir,” he whispered through the door. “Open up. It’s me.” A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Mr. Neal in green, geometric print pajamas.

“What on Earth do you want?” He hissed. Rhett glanced over his shoulder down the dark hallway.

“Will you let me in?” He whispered. “It’s not exactly hall talk.” Mr. Neal sighed and stepped aside, shutting the door quietly once Rhett was inside his room. Rhett now stood at the foot of the four poster bed, gazing around in the dim light. “Jeez, your room’s even nicer than mine.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Neal asked impatiently, crossing his arms against his chest as Rhett continued his inspection of the room, from the carvings on the bedpost to the fireplace across the room.

Rhett turned to him and said with a plain, open, and honest mien, “I… I think you should punish me for my behavior at dinner.” Mr. Neal cleared his throat.

“Get out.”

“No,” Rhett answered plainly, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “You’re stressed about tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t concern you.” Mr. Neal turned away, rooting through his suitcase for lord-only-knew.

“It should,” Rhett replied gently. “It’s why you brought me here.”

“Why _did_ I bring you here?” Mr. Neal spat rhetorically as he continued his digging.

“To help you. Because I know what helps.”

“Oh, yeah?” The man practically cried. He gazed down with Rhett and miserably asked, “And what helps?” Rhett stood and walked over to the man, impressive in his height. The thought of such a man bent on his knees before his boss was an image that left both men feeling weak.

“Breaking me down,” Rhett whispered. “Building me up again with only the pieces that satisfy you.” Mr. Neal’s eyes grew heavy, and Rhett found himself apologizing, “Look, the weirdness today, whatever all that was… Just...” He dragged his lower lip between his teeth as he searched for the right words. “Mr. Neal, you know how I can help you, so…”

“Rhett-” Mr. Neal breathed.

“We’re in a separate wing from everyone else. No one will hear.”

“Rhett, I can’t-” He began, but Rhett shushed him.

“Look, I humiliated you tonight. In front of your colleagues.”

Mr. Neal managed to summon a very thin veneer of humor as he scoffed, “You’re pretty full of yourself if you think-”

“Feldman’s a powerful man. I can tell.” Rhett bent down, leaning into his boss’ space. Mr. Neal froze when Rhett whispered hotly into his ear, “He’s nothing compared to you.”

Mr. Neal practically whimpered, and Rhett pulled back, practically panting from the heat rolling off the other man in waves. Mr. Neal sank his fist into Rhett’s hair and brought him down to eye level. “You’re right, boy. You know exactly what you did this evening, and you know why you deserve what’s coming next.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett moaned, voice thick as he caved to the man before him.

“On the bed, on all fours,” Mr. Neal commanded shakily. Rhett did as he was told, viscerally aware of his boss climbing up behind him. “Do you think I should slide your pants down a little?”

“Oh, god, yes,” Rhett sighed.

“Hmm, I think so, too,” he whispered. Rhett closed his eyes and focused on breathing as he felt Mr. Neal’s strong fingers pull the drawstring loose just before slipping down the back of Rhett’s pajama bottoms. He waited on hands and knees, sensing the other man falter. He shifted his knees and arched his back like a cat, lifting and exposing his perfect, bare ass. He shivered as the cool air hit his skin, but when Mr. Neal’s fingers trailed over the fine golden hairs on his lower back and slowly down to the center of his left cheek, he rushed with an urgency and heat that would only build, he knew.

“Sir-” He began to plead, for touch, for movement, for anything. He was shushed.

“You deliberately disobeyed my orders,” the man said, his voice a fearsome iceberg of resolve. Rhett felt his hand reel back and in a flash, the slap wrought a sweetly blooming sting to his muscular ass. His breath hitched, and Mr. Neal continued, “You practically threw yourself at Feldman.” Rhett grunted from the sharp and bright gush of pain from the slap following that accusation. “And you do not-” Another burst of gorgeous pain. “Call me-” Another slap brought down hard on his hot skin, making his toes curl. “ _Link_.” Rhett erupted into broken, needy groans as Mr. Neal abandoned restraint and rained down bruising, alternating blows on Rhett’s cheeks and thighs. “Gonna make your whole ass pink, baby.” Rhett collapsed a bit against the mattress, his arms giving way.

He stifled his moans to the best of his ability but he was a wreck, and soon he was begging, “Oh, god. Harder, sir. _Please_.” Mr. Neal pulled back a hand, and Rhett flinched. He grinned with fire in his eyes and raked his fingernails over Rhett’s bright red, sore ass. He could feel welts forming as Mr. Neal traced criss cross patterns all over his aching flesh. He shuddered with excitement when he thought of the shades of purple and yellow his ass would be.

It was all he could do not to beg the man to pull Rhett’s pants all the way down to his knees, lube up his hole with spit, and shove his cock into Rhett. He desperately needed a good, hard pounding against his sore, raw bottom right then. He needed to come all over Mr. Neal’s bed sheets and be made to lick up the mess after. He needed to hear his master screaming out his pleasure into the warm night air as he came inside Rhett’s frantic, shivering, orgasming body.

“You can go back to your room now,” Mr. Neal gasped, rising abruptly from the bed, distancing himself from Rhett, pushing his sweaty hair off his brow. Rhett nearly screamed in his agony.

“Are you _serious_?” He could barely lift himself back up onto all fours, much less walk all the way back his room.

“Of course, I’m serious,” Mr. Neal panted. “Your punishment is over.” He tried to angle himself inconspicuously, but Rhett wasn’t blind. Mr. Neal was just as compromised as he was.

“Sir,” he gasped, “I need to touch myself.” Mr. Neal bit his lips and sighed shakily through flared nostrils.

“Go do it in your room,” he ordered. “Now.” Rhett felt tears burn in his eyes, but if this was what Mr. Neal needed, then he’d leave. He couldn’t help himself from begging one small favor from his boss.

“Is it…” Rhett’s cock pulsed at the images tearing through his mind. “Is it okay if I think of you while I do it?”

Mr. Neal froze, his back to Rhett. A horrible, fraught silence extended between them, and Rhett nearly fell to his knees in contrition for crossing some unforeseen boundary, but Mr. Neal muttered tensely, breathlessly, “Okay.”

Rhett pulled up his pants and wiped the slobber off his chin as he stumbled towards the door. “Thank you, sir.”

Lying in his own bed, Rhett yanked down his pajama bottoms, wrapped a shaking fist around his painfully hard cock and jerked off feverishly. He ground his hips down hard against the raspy duvet cover, and the sparks of dark, burning pleasure were nothing compared to the voice he heard through the thin wall. “Rhett, god, yeah!” Rhett growled through his release, pumping come all over his fist, dripping over his belly and down his tight balls, pooling on the duvet.

He’d have to remember to pay Feldman for the dry cleaning bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from meirenyu: Sorry about the delay. I had a big, cross-country move, and I got a bit delayed. Thank mythicaliz for being so patient with me!


	8. Chapter 8

Rhett woke with the sun, its golden rays falling upon his face in vertical bars through the slats in the balcony door screen. He washed and dressed robotically, ticking through a rapidly expanding mental agenda, avoiding any thought that strayed towards the man sleeping in the next room.

But he knew he couldn’t avoid his boss forever, and not long later, he rapped softly against Mr. Neal’s door, precariously balancing a tray of coffee and toast and bacon and eggs in the crook of his arms. A muffled “enter” sounded through the door, and Rhett inched his way into the man’s room.

“Morning,” he murmured, taken aback at finding Mr. Neal seated at a handsome oak desk on the far side of the room, bent over the same set of blueprints he’d been unable to crack on the plane. Rhett set a cup of coffee on the corner of the desk before settling the rest of the man’s breakfast down on the credenza at the foot of the bed. He remained standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, knowing useful words hung in the balance but finding himself quite unable to grasp them. “Sleep well, sir?” He stammered as he took a sip from his own mug of strong black coffee. Mr. Neal finally looked up from his work, pencil dangling from his fingers as he glimpsed the tray of food waiting for him.

“We’re supposed to eat breakfast in the garden,” he said harshly, returning to his work again.

“I figured you’d need some time to get ready,” Rhett answered. His stomach growled unhelpfully, and Mr. Neal just scoffed. Rhett frowned and had half a mind leave if the room got any chillier. “Looks like I was right.”

Mr. Neal spat out, “Oh, yeah? And how’s your ass this morning?”

A hot little pit opened up in Rhett’s belly, and he nearly growled, “Sore.”

“Good,” Mr. Neal drawled, reaching for the cup sitting steaming on his desk. Rhett grit his teeth.

“I’ve set everything up in the study for your presentation,” he informed the man through a clenched jaw. “Now, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’ll just...”

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” Mr. Neal replied suddenly, gaze heavy when he jerked around to face Rhett.

“You’re busy,” Rhett spat, suddenly finding it a little hard to breathe. The two remained still, locked in a mutual glare. Rhett fought the urge to wipe his palms against his pressed brown slacks. He almost jolted when the other man sighed and drooped against his chair.

“I’m nervous, Rhett,” he admitted. Rhett licked his lips and ran one hand through his hair.

“I know.” It could be so simple, really, to just reach out and press his fingers to Mr. Neal’s skin, to pull him close and tell him that he was stunning and brilliant, and everything was going to be okay, but Rhett remained statue-like. He thought of his conversation with Micah. One of these days, Mr. Neal was going to have to meet him in the middle and just say what he needed, but it seemed the idiot was forever going to be too dense to realize it. “You’re gonna… you know you can tell me what to do.”

“Tell me I’m ready.”

Rhett sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed nearest the desk. “You know what you’re doing. Last year sucked, but this year, you’re more prepared.” Mr. Neal shook his head and turned to look at his work again. “You just need to take a quick break. Eat something, at least.” Mr. Neal chewed his bottom lip for a second, a fragile question blooming in his cool eyes.

“Rhett…”

“The answer’s yes.”

Mr. Neal smiled and gave a breathy laugh. “You don’t even know the question.” Rhett simply smiled, easy and open. Mr. Neal shifted in his seat, and the question turned to action as he said in a low, steely voice, “Bring the tray over here.” Rhett rose and plucked the tray up from the credenza and stood before his boss. “Set it down here,” he ordered, moving his blueprints out of the way. Rhett complied. Mr. Neal gazed up at him for a long moment, and Rhett was mesmerized with the flicker of fear in his eyes that dampened just as Mr. Neal said, “Sit at my feet.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett whispered, and he lowered himself, fidgeting with the cuff of his bell bottoms as he got comfortable.

“Closer,” he said, and Rhett moved closer until his shins were pressed against the leg of the desk chair. “Now, Rhett, I’m going to eat my breakfast, and you will wait until I’m finished.” Rhett nodded slowly, neck bent at a sharp angle as he followed the man’s every syllable. “And then I will feed you my table scraps. Do you know why?”

“Because I deserve no better,” Rhett whispered, coaxing a shiver from the man poised above him.

“Exactly,” Mr. Neal said, and he reached for a corner of toast, spreading a thin layer of marmalade on its craggy surface. He took a bite, and fine crumbs came tumbling down onto his lap. He glanced at the mess and said, “Clean that up.” Rhett’s chest bloomed with bright light as he reached shaking palms to Mr. Neal’s lap. He gently brushed away the crumbs on the man’s crisply clothed thighs. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears as he bit his lip and looked up into Mr. Neal’s eyes defiantly. Languidly, firmly, he dragged his palm from the top of his boss’ thigh to the man’s tight crotch and tenderly cupped his cock. Mr. Neal’s grip grew tight on his coffee cup, and with the other hand, he grabbed a fistful of Rhett’s hair and yanked his head back. He pressed his lips to Rhett’s ear and grunted, “ _Bad boy_. You just lost your table scrap privileges.”

Rhett whimpered, “But sir, I’m so hungry. I know you’ve got something you can feed me. Something big and hot.” To his dismay, dark laughter erupted against his ear, and that side of his body was wracked with intoxicating nervous frissons.

“ _Pathetic_ ,” Mr. Neal hissed. “You think you can entice me with some bargain bin porn dialogue? I’m disappointed in you, Rhett.” He pulled away, sat back upright and looked down on his subordinate with sharp disapproval. Rhett felt a little queasy from the toxic scorn dripping from his every word.   Mr. Neal returned to eating his breakfast, occasionally murmuring, “You really should try this,” as he polished off the last bite of each food on his plate.

 

The men were already lounging in the study when Mr. Neal entered with Rhett in tow. The room felt like some kind of 1930s mobster keep, richly outfitted in paneled wood, but decked in stylish, angular furniture in subdued tones of mustard and rust that had been all the rage a few years ago at the birth of the ‘60s. Through the filter of pungent Cuban cigar smoke, the room reeked of cedar, leather bound books, and expensive scotch. Rhett thanked the universe that he’d not been commanded to dress in frilly purple paisley again.

“We drew straws while we were waiting,” Feldman called from the chaise by the window. “You came up short, Neal.” Mr. Neal shifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gave the man a tight lipped smile. He fumbled with the blueprint, dropping it once as he attempted to fasten it to the easel at the front of the room. Rhett watched the man floundering and hurried over, lending a sure set of hands.

“You’re ready,” Rhett whispered, lips hardly moving. Mr. Neal nodded ever so slightly. Link took a steadying breath and turned to face the gathered men as Rhett took his seat next to Micah.

“Gentlemen,” he began with false bravado, “we’ve had one hell of a year.” The men raised their drinks to that, and he loosened his broad, plaid tie a hair. “Nixon’s ass may be on the line, but we’ve never seen such growth, promise, and success in our nearly decade-old company.”

“To Nixon!” John toasted, and the men raised their glasses.

Mr. Neal chuckled weakly and glanced at his blueprint to gather his thoughts again. Rhett practically glowed when the man briefly looked his way. He gave his boss a curt nod, and the man went back to his presentation, speaking with measured charm on the most recent updates to the Center Plaza plans, detailing down to the letter each little tweak and update he and Lizzie had made. Rhett didn’t miss Micah’s conspiratorial smile each time Mr. Neal looked Rhett’s way. He would have shoved the guy if he hadn’t taken such a liking to him, and soon enough, Rhett was grinning and rolling his eyes at Micah, which only encouraged the incorrigible ginger.

Rhett felt (more than saw) Feldman turn his attention to the two of them, and when Rhett turned to look back at the man, Feldman raised his glass of scotch to his lips, eyes intent on Rhett as he sipped. Rhett buzzed with a nervous shiver, a reluctant smile lifting the corners of his moustache as he tipped his head at Feldman. He returned his attention to his boss, ignoring Micah’s ongoing pestering.

The torture didn’t last long. After adequately fielding a few of the men’s questions about cost and safety measures, Mr. Neal collected his materials and made his way to the empty seat next to Rhett. Conversation started up again, raucous jokes and laughter, and Rhett seized the opportunity to lean over and whisper, “You did great.”

Link gave a breathy laugh and whispered back, “Thanks, bab- uh…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Rhett.” Rhett bit back a smile and said nothing. They remained silent throughout the remaining presentations.

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Rhett was starving, and he’d torn into his meal like a ravenous wolf. After lunch, he went up to his room with every intention of slipping into his bathing suit and going down to the massive, teal-tiled pool in the backyard, but the second he sat down on his bed, it hit him just how much secondhand stress he’d carried for his boss, and what had initially been intended to be a power nap ended a couple hours later, when he woke up refreshed and relaxed.

The afternoon sun beckoned to him, and he slipped out the balcony doors onto the terrace outside his bedroom and gazed out into the grounds of the estate. Directly below him stretched the pool area, posh with its beachy sun chairs and palm trees. His eyes were drawn to a slim figure stretched out on a chaise lounge. _Mr. Neal_. His heart guttered in his belly, and he felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the Florida sun. His boss wore a tiny pair of red swim trunks that sat low on his slim hips. He watched the man shift his black sunglasses as he reading a book, a dewy bottle of beer in hand in the other hand. Rhett shakily sighed. That man couldn’t be more beautiful if he tried. Rhett memorized his warm, fair skin and jet black hair. His tight tummy was flat without a trace of boyish softness. Rhett found himself imagining what it would be like to trace slick lines all over that belly with his tongue. He allowed himself to get lost in the thought for a moment, grinning stupidly until he realized Mr. Neal had looked up from his book to find him staring. Rhett smiled and awkwardly waved down at him. Mr. Neal nodded and returned to his book. Rhett wished for death as red stained his cheeks.

Rhett hurriedly slipped back into his room, firmly closing the door behind him. He decided to preoccupy himself with a nice, hot shower, stripping down to nothing before he stepped under the steaming stream and lathering up. He had succeeded in his job, he kept reminding himself. Mr. Neal had needed him badly, badly enough to steal him away from North Carolina for a few days, and Rhett had proved his worth. The presentation had gone off without a hitch.

A dark thought came crashing in through his walls. Now that the presentation was over, now that he had served his purpose, did Mr. Neal actually need him anymore? He’d been mentally skirting the issue for weeks, but something about the waterfall shower and the steadily encroaching fear of less left him open to reflect on things with Mr. Neal. Was this really what the man wanted? The hesitation that filled Mr. Neal’s every move spoke volumes Rhett had avoided reading. Had he really wanted to gag him on the plane? Had he forced Mr. Neal’s hand all this time? Was Mr. Neal just biding his time until a new temp could replace him?

He almost didn’t want to let himself think this could be more than what it was. Whatever _that_ was. He was a human stress relief ball, and maybe not even that. And maybe there was a very good reason why Mr. Neal had seemed to avoid showing Rhett even the slightest amount of affection. Rhett scrubbed at his face as the thought occurred to him for the very first time that Mr. Neal might not even be attracted to him. His chest felt hollow.

He wondered bitterly what he even saw in the man anyway. He was handsome, sure. But he was kind of an asshole, bristly and cold and unsympathetic. Rhett knew even as the thought entered his head that that wasn’t true.

If he thought about it, really thought about it, he knew Micah had been so very, very right. But Rhett had been pushing so much, so hard, he needed Mr. Neal to make the next move, whatever that may be. He sighed as he washed the last of the shampoo out of his hair.

He wrapped a towel around his waist as he climbed out of the shower. Standing before the foggy mirror, he toweled his shaggy blond mane and combed it up high into his usual pompadour. With a leaping heart, he opened the armoire where he’d hung his clothes, reaching for a hanging garment bag. Maybe Mr. Neal would find it a lot easier to make a move if Rhett dressed to impress.

Aperitifs and hors d'oeuvres had been served on the veranda, and Rhett grazed as he sipped a martini or two. His boss was nowhere to be seen, but already he could feel the now familiar bubble of apprehension working its way up to his throat. He knew he looked good, standing there by the veranda bar, lit only by soft fairy lights and starshine. He wore tailored grey pants and a plaid sports coat, a dove grey background with stripes of navy, cranberry, and mustard, set off by a soft gold shirt and sleek cranberry tie. The jacket fit him like a glove, he knew. He’d had the suit made bespoke for a special occasion like this. He had hoped all those months ago, as he stood in the tailor’s, that he’d get to wear the suit for his first official date with Gregg, but that invitation had never come, and the suit had remained hanging in its bag in the back of the closet. He knew the colors were probably a bit too loud for Mr. Neal’s taste, but Mr. Neal liked Rhett for his boldness, or so Rhett hoped.

No sooner had he thought the name than the man himself appeared in the beautiful archway of the wide open double doors that led out to the veranda. Mr. Neal lingered in the doorway, his face blank as his eyes lingered all over Rhett. Rhett smiled, his eyes crinkling as he lifted a glass of scotch towards the man, an invitation. Mr. Neal shook himself and walked to the bar where Rhett leant casually. He took the glass from Rhett’s long fingers. Rhett raised his martini to toast his boss.

“To your fabulous success today, sir,” Rhett said a little breathlessly. “Now you can let your hair down.”

“Impossible,” Link replied with a curl of the lip.

“Well, we’ll just have to get enough drinks into you,” Rhett joked, taking a sip of his martini, hoping Mr. Neal didn’t miss the mischief in his eyes. Rhett’s stomach went all fluttery as he watched his boss slowly unwind, his shoulders dropping, his grin deepening, his laugh issuing rich and genuine when Alex cracked some stupid joke about one thing or another. When the others were lost in conversation, Rhett leaned in and whispered, “Can I ask a favor of you?” Mr. Neal looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I guess you’ve earned that much,” he muttered back, his hand brushing against the back of Rhett’s.

 

“I firmly believe this whole sushi fad’ll be over by next quarter,” John announced to the table as the men choked down their exotic dinner with fixed grimaces.

“Hey, you ingrate,” Feldman boomed, “I flew Kiro in all the way from Tokyo to make that for you. Least you can do is pretend to enjoy it!” Rhett glanced up at Feldman from his plate, fumbling miserably with his chopsticks all the while. Feldman watched Rhett indulgently for a moment before rising from his seat and coming around behind Rhett. “Here,” he husked into Rhett’s ear, reaching around to place the chopsticks correctly in Rhett’s hand. The man was warm against Rhett’s back, and he smelled of ginger and wasabi and sake.

“Uh, thank you, Mr. Feldman,” Rhett uttered, allowing the man to guide his hand. He tried in earnest, but the chopsticks kept zigging when they should zag, and he dropped every single piece of sushi he’d managed to pick up. Rhett dared not look to his side. He knew Mr. Neal wouldn’t like the liberties he was allowing Feldman to take with him. “I think I’ve got it.”

“I think you’re going to starve,” Feldman chuckled darkly, and he plucked the sticks from Rhett’s hand, deftly picking up a piece of sushi and holding it in front of Rhett’s mouth. Rhett hesitated, and soon he felt Feldman sneaking a hand to his waist. “Eat.” Without thinking, Rhett glanced over at his boss. He was met with a thunderous expression. “Link, tell Rhett to eat.”

Mr. Neal neatly folded his napkin and set it on the table. He turned to Rhett and asked plainly, “Rhett, are you hungry?” Rhett’s eyes darted between him, the piece of sushi hovering over his lips, Micah sitting tight-lipped on the other side of the table. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of his seat.

“No,” he answered firmly, and a long moment passed before he felt Feldman’s laughter gushing against the back of his neck.

“Suit yourself,” he acquiesced, and he popped the sushi into his own mouth instead before he pulled away from Rhett’s chair back and went to his seat. He washed the sushi down with another swig of sake and said, “Just trying to be a good host.”

“I’m sure Rhett appreciates your hospitality,” Mr. Neal replied in a measured, clipped tone.

After the rest of the men had eaten as much as they could stomach, the waitstaff cleared the table of dishes and brought out more bottles of warm sake and tiny, hand-painted sake glasses for each of them. They passed a bottle around and filled their cups. Mike called to Feldman, “Yo, Feld, no one can leave the table until all four bottles are empty, right?”

“House rules,” Feldman cracked, and Rhett suddenly felt heavy. Each bottle was rather big, and they’d already been drinking for nearly two hours.

“I can’t do this, sir,” Rhett whispered to Mr. Neal, but John overheard and sighed dramatically.

“Jesus, Rhett,” he groaned, “you couldn’t be more of a woman even if you were wearing a wig and lipstick.”

“You’d love that,” Alex laughed. “Wouldn’t you, Warder?”

“He’d still be better looking than the skirts you pull,” John retorted, and several of the group laughed and booed.

“Hey, I’ve got no complaints about the skirts I pull, old man,” Alex crowed. He turned to Rhett and playfully asked, “What about you, Rhett? What kinda trim you getting these days?”

“Well,” Rhett said, stroking his beard. “My days of sowing my wild oats are over.” He took a sip of his drink. “I mean, there’s someone I’m interested in, but I’m not sure it’s gonna work out.” He could practically feel Mr. Neal’s eyes burning into his skin.

Mike said knowingly, ”Oh, so the sex is bad.” Rhett nearly laughed with how desperately he wished he had the type of knowledge to answer that question.

“It’s more that we… Well, we work together,” Rhett said, staring anywhere but at Link.

“Oh, come on,” Mr. Neal slurred. “You know that’s not the only person you’re interested in.” Rhett could see the red in Mr. Neal’s eyes, the way his hair was growing disheveled, the way the man kept loosening his tie further and further.

“And what would you know about that?” Rhett asked waspishly. Mr. Neal refilled his cup with more sake and downed a shot.

“Wait, dude,” Alex cut in. “You’re not into Stevie, are you? Dude.” He laughed when Rhett said nothing in return. “Dude, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I hear she’s… you know… she plays softball? You know, like, she plays for the other team.” Rhett took a sip of his drink again and forced a smile. “A lesbian. She’s a lesbian.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” he said in a tight voice. “Saves me the hassle of wooing her.” Mr. Neal had not stopped staring openly at Rhett. He set his glass down a little too hard on the table, wavering in his seat.

“But there’s someone else, Rhett,” he slurred. “Don’t act like there isn’t.” Rhett wanted nothing more than to spill his guts to his boss, allay all his fears, cool his anger, but now was neither the time nor place, especially with the way that Feldman was watching them both like a hawk.

“Suffice it to say that I don’t sleep around anymore,” Rhett said softly. “If I’m with someone, I'm with them.” Link swallowed thickly and threw back yet another slug of sake.

“Pfft,” John scoffed. “I told you he was a girl.”

“Okay,” Rhett drawled wearily, pushing away from the table. “And on that note, I think I’ll call it a night, gentlemen.”

As Rhett stood, Mr. Neal croaked, “Don’t go.”

“I have to,” Rhett snapped, and he nodded to them all as he turned to make his way up to bed. His head was swimming with alcohol and Mr. Neal’s sad, heavy eyes. What had the man been thinking, demanding answers from him in front of everyone like that? He stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaned against the wall to steady himself against the booze which dizzied him. He soon realized he wasn’t alone in the foyer, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Feldman leaning in the doorway, sizing him up the way a cat stalks a mouse.

“Do you need help getting into your bed?” He asked in that deep, raspy voice of his. Rhett’s heart began to pound. This wasn’t good. What if Mr. Neal found them talking alone like this?

“No, I just-” Rhett began, but his words fell short as Feldman surged forward, trapping him against the wall. The man’s barrel chest and arms were muscular, overwhelming, unyielding.

“How about my bed, then?” He rasped, tracing his lips up the column of Rhett’s neck. Rhett shivered. It felt amazing, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Look, Micah-”

“Can join us if you like,” Feldman chuckled. “I know he’d like that.”

“Absolutely not,” Rhett finally growled, giving Feldman’s chest a little shove. “I belong to Link.” Feldman pulled back, leaning against the stair railing, panting as he laughed.

“Yeah, I half thought that might be the case,” he yielded. He sighed, smoothing out his short beard. He looked at Rhett with a fond sadness. He stepped close again and trailed two fingers along the edge of Rhett’s bearded jaw. “I hope he appreciates you.” Rhett looked away. He couldn’t bear the raw desire he still saw in Feldman’s eyes. It felt too good to be wanted that badly, to not be shoved away, to be allowed closer than arm’s length.

He stood in front of the bedroom mirror for a good, long while before slipping into his pajamas. He switched off the lights and closed the blinds on the balcony door before sinking woozily into bed. Sleep came quickly, but he was soon dragged back into consciousness with a heart-rending jolt. The world around him was a haze for the few moments it took for him to become coherent, but he soon registered that he was no longer alone.

He felt hot breath reeking of sake and ginger on the back of his neck, and hands reached clumsily down past the waistband of his pajamas. His heart seemed to stop, and he cried out the first furious thought that entered his head.

“Feldman, what the hell?” He bellowed, and the man behind him froze for a second before his hands continued their unwanted grabbing.

“It’s okay, Rhett. It’s just me,” came Mr. Neal’s lazy, slurred voice. “Want you so bad.” He licked and sucked at Rhett’s earlobe, and Rhett nearly lost himself to the sensation of creeping fingers and writhing tongue.

But everything was all wrong.

Rhett pried away his fingers and turned to face the man laying undressed in his bed. “No, Link. Not like this.”

“Don’t call me-”

“I will call you by your name,” Rhett growled, feeling the sharp pricking of tears behind his eyes. His throat went tight. “You can at least show me that much respect.”

“Fine, Rhett,” he said, kissing his neck, trailing his hands all over Rhett’s body. “But c’mon, we’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Wanna fuck you.”

“ _Stop_ ,” Rhett bellowed, sitting up in bed. He leaned over and flicked the bedside table lamp on. Link was a mess, laying sprawled in his underwear, cock straining against the fabric, chest heaving to catch up with his heartbeat. Rhett pressed one trembling palm to his chest and cried, “You need to understand something. You don’t get free rein to do whatever you want to me.” Link’s jaw went slack. “You get to spank me and hit me, because I let you. Because I want you to.” Link tried to sit up, but Rhett overpowered him. “And believe me, I want to let you do a whole lot more. But not like this.” He pushed Link hard. “You’re completely wasted. You’re a fucking mess.” Link had the good grace to appear contrite. Rhett took a steadying breath and implored him, “So if you want me, if you really want me, if you want whatever this is to go anywhere, then man up and have the courage to kiss me when you’re sober.”

“Rhett, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Not as sorry as you should be,” he breathed, throwing the man’s words right back in his face. Link smiled sadly and gathered his jacket and slacks from the floor.

“Is it okay if I-”

“I am _so_ angry with you right now,” Rhett answered calmly. “I’ll see you in the garden for breakfast.” Without a word, Link hastily retreated, leaving Rhett to the silence of his lonely room. A dam burst in his chest, and Rhett let loose all the frustration and pain that had been building up for weeks. He never did like falling asleep in a pool of his own tears, but that was where Charles Lincoln Neal III had left him.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Rhett registered the following morning was a taste on his tongue like something long dead. As he slowly drifted towards consciousness, the twinge behind his eyes developed into a raging headache. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d packed a bottle of Tylenol, but dragging himself from bed was proving a monumental task. His head was swimming, and his overactive saliva glands were the first warning he’d retch if he made any sudden movements. The hands on the alarm clock read twenty three past seven.

The morning sunlight wedged itself into his eye sockets, and he finally gave in to the need for a piss, a glass of water and a double dose of pain meds. The first need taken care of, he dug around in his carry-on, took out two tablets, and headed for the shower. The hot water seemed to wash away some of his hangover, and as his mind cleared, hazy memories of the night before infested his mind.

Flashes of sake bottles, cigar smoke, Feldman’s scruffy beard against his skin… He shivered despite the heat of the shower water cascading over his tired body. Last night had been a mess. As he dried and pulled on a worn pair of shorts, a vague flash struck him, one of Mr. Neal laid out nearly naked in his bed, touching him, coaxing him, declaring things Rhett couldn’t remember for the life of him. He sighed, both wishing that dream had been the real deal and deliriously glad that it hadn’t been.

 

Breakfast in the garden was a subdued affair, half the men undoubtedly still in bed suffering from drink-related complaints. Even the few of them who’d made it to the table (of which Mr. Neal was not one) ate in silence, not that Rhett minded, preoccupied as he was with the distressing thought that something actually _had_ happened between him and his boss. The more he agonized over it and the more the details solidified in his recollection, he grew somewhat certain Mr. Neal’s presence in his bed hadn’t been imagined. Angry words had been said. Mr. Neal had fled. Rhett tried to focus on his breakfast instead of the growing, gnawing worry in his belly.

A few cups of strong coffee and a slice of coffee cake had left him feeling much better by the time the others were gearing up for their morning plans. The few who were ready milled around in the foyer in ridiculous plaid shorts, polos, and hats. The air was thick with the smell of sunscreen. Mr. Neal was nowhere to be seen. Rhett grabbed a cup of coffee and a danish from the kitchen and wearily made his way up to Link’s room. He tapped on the door, but he was met with silence.

“Sir?” Rhett called out quietly. He called out again, louder, “Sir? Are you decent? I’m opening the door.”

He pushed the door open and was met with the sight of his boss awkwardly splayed belly first on the bed, his skinny limbs taking up residence on all four corners. His mouth hung open, and his soft snores drifted through the still room. Rhett carefully set the coffee and danish on the credenza and turned to face the slumbering man. He hesitated, hovering over his boss before reaching out a tentative hand to the man’s shoulder, giving him a quick shove.

“Mr. Neal, wake up,” he whispered. “It’s almost time to go.” The man grunted, turning away from the most unwelcome intrusion. He curled inward on himself in the middle of the mattress, his underwear shifting in the process. Rhett swallowed hard, trying not to stare at the small of the man’s back, the soft cleft revealed there. Rhett licked his lips. “Sorry Sir, we’re leaving shortly for the golf course.”

Mr. Neal shifted against the straining duvet and stirred slowly awake, eyes still clamped firmly shut. In a rocky, groggy voice, he mumbled, “How much I drink last night?”

“Enough,” Rhett answered kindly, ready to move away, but Mr. Neal turned his head to gaze at Rhett over his bare, muscular shoulder. Rhett choked, feeling happlessly like a doe caught in a set of high beams.

“Oh, Christ,” Mr. Neal swore, watching Rhett’s face for a moment before he crawled into a sitting position. “Please tell me I didn’t make an ass of myself in front of everyone.”

“They all had a lot to drink,” he answered, skirting the truth. “ _We_ all had a lot to drink.” Mr. Neal raised a skeptical eyebrow and swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded on unsteady feet to the bathroom. Rhett sat at the desk and listened as a faucet turned on.

A moment later, the man returned from the bathroom and dug around in his suitcase. He glanced at Rhett, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Rhett averted his eyes to the palm trees swaying outside the window as Mr. Neal got dressed. At length, the man spoke.

“So, I guess you and Feldman did some bonding last night,” he said mildly, sitting down on the ottoman, putting his shoes on. Rhett jolted in his seat, snapping around in bewilderment.

“I beg your pardon?” He demanded. Mr. Neal smirked, a dark and unkind light in his eyes.

“No need to be coy,” he muttered, rising to take a deep sip of coffee. Rhett sputtered, words escaping him.

He demanded, “What exactly do you remember from last night?”

“ _Enough_ ,” Mr. Neal hissed, his coffee mug clinking as he thunked it down onto the saucer.

“I said ‘exactly,’” Rhett pressed. Mr. Neal turned to him, wavering where he stood, looking for all the world like a man drowning.

“Caught a glimpse of a friendly interlude on the stairs,” he said through grit teeth.

“And you think that means something?” Rhett scoffed. His eyes narrowed.

“So, you don’t deny it?” The man sneered. Rhett breathed deeply, mustering his strength. He was still too damn hungover to be having this conversation, and he had the sneaking feeling that his boss was still a little drunk.

“Look, if I’ve done something that displeases you,” he whispered, reining in his budding anger, “then you and I have certain ways of dealing with that.” Mr. Neal took a step towards the man, all heat and impulsiveness.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ve had a change of heart,” he said with a cruel smile. Rhett’s body blossomed with a terrible, sinking revelation.

“Wait, what are you saying?” He whispered, but before Mr. Neal could answer, there was a sharp knocking at the door.

“Hey, when y’all are done sucking dick in there,” came Warder’s obnoxious voice, “the car’s waiting.” Mr. Neal gave one final, disgusted look at Rhett before he grabbed his bag of golf clubs and stalked to the door, yanking it open.

“Hold your damn horses,” he grumbled at Warder before he disappeared from Rhett’s view. The second he knew he was alone, Rhett gasped and collapsed against the chair. He bent down low at the waist, planting his head between his knees and focused his entire being on simply trying to breathe, clinging desperately to the dam that was a hair away from bursting. He stayed like that a long while. He lost count of the minutes, but at some point, there was a gentle rapping of knuckles against the door frame.

“We’re all ready to go,” came Micah’s soft, welcome voice. Rhett looked up, sure that his face must be tomato red, his hair a little wild.

“Micah,” he breathed, the tight ball in his chest loosening ever so slightly. In his relief, he almost missed the hardness in Micah’s expression. “I’m sorry. I’m just kind freaking out a little.”

“Well, we’re all waiting on you, so…” Micah’s mouth was a razor sharp line, and as quickly as Rhett had felt relief, the ball tightened up again. Micah turned on his heel.

“Hey, wait,” Rhett called, but the only response was Micah’s rapidly departing footsteps. Rhett’s eyes burned, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat and stood, smoothing out his clothes and his hair. He was going to make it through the day even if it killed him.

 

The car turned out to be a sleek, black Cadillac limousine, and by the time Rhett slid inside, all the men were seated with drinks in their hands. Rhett brushed up against Mr. Neal’s side as he sat on the glossy tan leather, and the man shrank away from his touch. Rhett tried his hardest not to notice. He failed.

“Where are your clubs, Rhett?” Alex asked between sips of a spiked Arnold Palmer. Rhett shrugged, a sheepish grin on his lips. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll pick some up for you in the pro-shop once we get there.” Mr. Neal sighed impatiently, and Rhett swore he could hear the man’s eyes rolling in their sockets. Rhett swallowed hard and smiled brightly at Alex.

“Groovy,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

 

Alex was patient while the wizened shopkeeper dug through the pro-shop inventory. Rhett shuffled around, taking stock of a handsome display of tennis rackets while they waited.

“Don’t often get people tall as you, son,” the tiny man croaked, shoving aside some boxes as he climbed deeper into the storage room. “Your daddy a Viking or summat?” Rhett reluctantly chuckled for the man’s benefit, and Alex softly socked his arm, face plastered with a knowing smile.

“Something like that, yeah,” Rhett answered as the man appeared through the doorway with a set of long, titanium clubs.

“Gonna have to blow the dust off these suckers, but they oughtta get the job done,” the old man croaked, giving the two men a smile that split his face. Alex settled up with the man. As he and Rhett began the trek out to the first hole, Alex stopped him.

“Hey, man,” he said, eyes a little troubled. “I gotta ask. Everything alright?”

“What? Of course. Why?” Rhett replied, rapidfire.

“Just… Link looks like hell,” he ventured. “Thought maybe something had happened.”

“Everything’s fine,” Rhett declared, and it sounded harsh and tinny even to his own ears.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

The green had a kind of overwhelming, manicured vastness Rhett had only seen in magazines. He watched his colleagues milling around, readying to tee off with something akin to boredom, and it struck him as a little depressing that they’d all grown bored of such a beautiful vista. He messed around with his clubs, completely at a loss which one would be of any help, when Alex caught his eye. The blond surreptitiously lifted a club for Rhett to see, and Rhett nodded sharply, slipping out a club that looked mostly similar.

Feldman, to no one’s surprise, teed off first, every fiber of his being on alert as the group watched the tiny ball cut through the pale blue sky. It landed far in the distance and rolled to a stop. By the soft applause that followed, Rhett surmised the man had done well. Feldman gave him a wolfish grin, and Rhett mildly smiled back. Out of nervous impulse, he glanced over to his boss, but the man had been preoccupied with a clod of mud on the tip of his shoe.

Rhett couldn’t help the overwhelming rush of memory of being down on his knees, kissing the man’s pristine boots. He bitterly dismissed the thought. There was no sense agonizing over what had most likely already slipped from his fingers.

He was snapped from his daze when he realized the whole group of men were watching him expectantly, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Oh, me?” He gulped.

“I don’t see any other Rhetts on the green today,” Mr. Neal sniped. Rhett grit his jaw and bent down to fumble with the ball and tee. After a couple failed attempts, he managed to get the ball to rest.

“Sorry, I’ve never…” He mumbled as he stood, holding his club with a death grip. He could hear Feldman chuckle off to the side, and before he knew what was happening, he felt the broad man step in really close behind him, wrapping his arms loosely around Rhett’s body. Feldman forced Rhett’s hands into position, but once they were fixed, Feldman stayed put.

“I’m an old pro,” he muttered into Rhett’s ear. “You’re in competent hands.”

“You don’t say,” Rhett said in a gush of breath. Feldman’s hand felt like a brand when it planted on Rhett’s hip.

“I do,” the rough man crooned. “Now, lean into me.”

Rhett wanted to tell the man to go to hell, especially after the weirdness he’d caused between him and Mr. Neal. He could feel his boss’ eyes burning into him. He wished that, anyway, wished for any sign that the man actually gave a rat’s ass what he did anymore. And Rhett really didn’t want to think about what this must look like to Micah. At a loss for what to do, Rhett did what he did best: what he was told.

“That’s good, Rhett,” Feldman said. “You learn well.” Rhett’s heart lurched when he realized Feldman was looking directly at Mr. Neal as he spoke.

“Um, I think I’ve got it,” Rhett mumbled, shying away from Feldman’s grasping hands.

“Hush,” he replied indulgently. “Now, just swing through like this. There you go.” He manipulated Rhett’s body several times, flexing and relaxing against him. “Think you got it, Rhett?” Rhett peeled away from the man’s embrace.

“Yeah.”

When Feldman finally backed off, Rhett steadied his stance and raised the club up behind his head. In one fluid slice, he struck the ball and followed through until his body stood in an elegant arc. The ball eventually rolled to a stop far in the distance, a few meters from the hole and its little white flag.

“Shit, man,” Warder swore, clapping Rhett on the shoulder. “Not bad at all.” Rhett’s chest puffed up, and he fought a proud smile.

“He had a good teacher,” Feldman piped in. Rhett’s smile soured.

By the time they rounded the fifth hole, Rhett was still making decent shots in spite of Feldman’s continued fondling, but Mr. Neal was striking up clods of mud and cursing under his breath. The shit talk from his co-workers clearly exacerbated the problem. Rhett itched to reach out to the man, whisper hushed words of support and praise. He kept his distance.

“Jesus, Link,” Warder crowed. “The hole’s thataways!” Mr. Neal took another dreadful swing, missed the ball entirely, and when his flub was met with snickering, he roared like some pissy silverback. The group collectively ducked as he flung the club over their heads into the distance.

“Holy shit, man,” Mike drawled from behind Alex. “You need a drink or something?”

“Yeah, I need a fucking drink,” he hissed, and without another word, he hopped into their one golf cart and drove off towards the club house.

“Uh,” Alex said as they watched the man depart. “You think he’s coming back?”

“Not likely,” Rhett answered, lips tight.

 

Rhett didn’t recognize their stewardess this time as they two men settled onto the jet in tense silence. She’d gone back to the galley when Rhett finally turned to Mr. Neal and said point-blank, “We need to talk.”

Mr. Neal sighed and shoved his briefcase into an empty seat. “Can’t it wait ‘til we’re in the air at least?”

Rhett crowded the man’s space and insisted, “I’ve been trying to talk to you since lunch.” Mr. Neal glared him down.

“Maybe I have nothing to say,” he said coolly. Rhett’s shoulders dropped, and he shook his head.

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he spat, turning away from the man. “I’m just in no mood to talk to you.” Rhett laughed, cold and callous.

“As I recall, you were in quite the mood last night.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, watching a convoluted play of emotion flit across his boss’ face.

Blankly, Mr. Neal asked, “What on Earth are you babbling about?”

“You seriously don’t remember coming into my room?” Rhett pushed. It was Mr. Neal’s turn to laugh just as viciously.

“Yeah, that must have been real terrible,” he practically crowed, “me interrupting your alone time with Feldman.”

“Will you just listen to me?” Rhett growled. “For one fucking second, stop throwing a tantrum, and just listen!” Mr. Neal rounded on him, looking for all the world like he was a second away from striking Rhett across the face.

“I said shut up!” Mr. Neal screamed. “I am so completely over this!”

Rhett’s mouth snapped shut. His chest froze solid, a creeping hoary frost that left him numb and empty. It felt like someone had upended a bucket of ice water over his head. It was agony trying to move, but he slowly made his way to the sofa in the back of the cabin. He was walking along the ocean floor, every step weighed down, the air unable to fill his lungs no matter how he struggled to breathe. He rigidly slunk down onto the unyielding cushion and turned to face the back wall.

He had no clue how long they’d been in the air by the time the dam burst and silent, shameful tears burned hot down his face. He’d been so foolish. The man across the cabin had never cared for him and never would. He was a naive fool, and now he was suffering for it. He deserved everything he was feeling in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look
> 
> if you need to send us anon hate mail
> 
> we understand
> 
> [mythicaliz](https://mythicaliz.tumblr.com/) and [meirenyu](https://mei-ren-yu.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> just a heads up i'm going to be continuing white collared solo from now own so the writing style will be somewhat different. mei-ren-yu is an amazing writer and she brought so much to this story but i don't want to let it die, so i'm forging ahead onward and upward. -liz

Rhett sat huddled alone on his cramped little balcony, his long legs awkwardly pulled up beneath his chin as he watched pedestrians milling past two by two on the street below. His luggage still sat by the front door, unpacked and willfully forgotten for the evening. His fingers itched to grab a beer from the fridge, but after the day’s developments, it was all he could do to keep himself sitting upright in one piece.

 

The phone rang in the kitchen. Rhett sighed and hugged his legs closer to his chest.

 

Mr. Neal had left him there at the airport earlier that afternoon. They’d landed, collected their bags in silence, and then Mr. Neal had just left him, not looking back once as he pulled away in the shiny, black hired car. Well, maybe that was unfair. He’d glanced at Rhett just as he opened the door, but Rhett swore he’d be damned before he’d ask for a ride, not with things as they were.

 

His stomach grumbled, and he reached for the cool mug of tea resting on the wicker table at his side. It was all he could do to simply hold the cup as he taught himself how to breathe again.

 

He wasn’t sure how he’d show his face at work in the morning. He closed his eyes and pictured the long walk from the elevator to his desk. He could feel the pinpricks of all their hungry eyes watching him, honing in on some sign of what had happened with their boss, and even though he knew it was ridiculous to think anyone suspected him, still a nervous churning in his stomach.

 

The phone rang again. He set down his mug. He licked his lips and unfolded his legs. He peeled himself up from the wobbly chair with a groan. By the time he reached the kitchen, the phone rested silent in its dock once more. He took out a stale loaf of bread and made himself a piece of dry toast.

 

He didn’t have to go back tomorrow, though. All this worrying, all this shame, all this fear was ultimately pointless. He didn’t have to see Charles Neal III ever again for the rest of his life if he didn’t want to, but for all his anguish, the real point of shame was that he could think of little else he wanted than to see that ridiculous man, to make him realize he wanted Rhett just the same.

 

He felt his way into the living room in the dark and dropped bonelessly down on the sofa, tugging the cushion into place beneath his head. The toast lay untouched on the kitchen counter. He dozed for a while, drifting in and out of sleep. 

 

An agitated knocking sounded at the door. 

 

He thought he might be dreaming it and jammed his eyes shut. The knocking persisted, and his heart fell into his belly. He could hear an agitated shuffling from the other side of the door.    
  


“Rhett?” Came a muffled voice, Gregg’s voice. “Rhett, open up.”

 

A darkness settled in Rhett’s chest, and he froze stock still, every single fiber of his body willing the man to leave his doorstep. The doorknob rattled, and for one horrible second, Rhett couldn’t remember if he’d locked up behind himself earlier. Eventually, the rattling ceased and a moment later, he heard Gregg’s footsteps retreating down the hall.

 

The beat of Gregg’s feet became a steady, driving rhythm in his ears, and Rhett belatedly realized it was the hectic pounding of his own heart. He rubbed his clammy hands against his slacks and fought against the hazy waves of gray panic crashing over him. He felt wetness overcome his cheeks, and numbly, he pawed his way over to his suitcase, practically ripped it open, and dug around for a familiar slip of satin. Falling to his knees, he looped the ascot around his neck, knotted the fabric once, and tugged the ends tight with sure fists. His face grew flushed, the skin tightening with pumping blood. His eyes and lips began to tingle. His vision swam and blackened around the edges. He pulled tighter, tighter, tighter until a sweet, anesthetized cloud overcame him. His head was light as a balloon. His chest loosened. He fell to all fours as his lungs finally filled with oxygen once more.

 

He laughed deliriously until nothing was left of him but a hollow, exhausted shell of a man.

  
  
  


“You don’t deserve me,” Rhett said calmly. “You don’t now, and you never did.” He adjusted his tie and unbuckled his seat belt. He stared back at himself from the rearview mirror and winced at the darkness of the circles beneath his steely eyes. “You don’t deserve me. You don’t now, and you never did.” 

 

He slammed the door shut behind him and stalked up to the building. He nodded resolutely to the receptionist as he stepped into the lift. The doors slid together, and he was met again by his reflection. His grasped his briefcase tighter in his broad hand and took a steadying breath.

 

“You don’t deserve me,” he muttered through a clenched jaw. “You don’t now, and you never did.”

 

He marched to his desk with his head down and eyes cast to the floor. He nodded when Chase greeted him from across the typists’ pool, and he set his briefcase down on the desk before heading to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He stood in front of the shiny coffee maker and uttered, “You don’t deserve me. You don’t now, and you never did.”

 

“Oh, hon,” Stevie said from the doorway, “You know I never meant to take you for granted.” There was laughter in her eyes, and Rhett quickly schooled his surprise.

 

“Sorry, I just-”

 

“How was the trip?” She asked cordially, slipping some Tupperware into the fridge.

 

“The trip?”

 

“To Florida.”

 

“Oh!” He laughed. “Yeah, it was fine.” She turned to watch him, all benevolent scrutiny and fond amusement.

 

“Just fine?” She pressed. “Did anything  _ interesting  _ happen?” The familiar ball of worry muddled up in Rhett’s belly again.

 

“Just your standard business trip,” he answered, cringing to hear how testy it came out. “Um, thanks for asking though.” She looked down at her nails for a moment.

 

“Sure thing,” she answered absently. She glanced back up at him as she remembered something, “Oh, yeah. By the way, Mr. Neal asked me to tell you that he’s going to be in and out all day and that if you need to speak with him, you can call his desk phone and leave a message.” Rhett glared down at his coffee, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

 

“Right,” he choked. Stevie stepped closer and rested a palm on his arm.

 

“If you need anything…” She began, but Rhett smiled and shook his head.

 

“I know,” he said softly. “And I appreciate it.” Stevie smiled back, her bright red lips lifting where her eyes did not.

  
  


True to his word, Mr. Neal had been scarce. Rhett mechanically went through his day, sorting dispatch, typing up memos, detailing for the record what had transpired at last weekend’s meeting.He had seen his boss only once for a moment. Rhett was walking back from the copy room with a huge stack of papers in his arms when in his periphery he saw Mr. Neal dart down a hallway. At least he thought he had seen him. He wondered if his boss had seen him as well and had ducked down a hallway to avoid him, or if he hadn’t seen him at all, or if Mr. Neal was just a figment of his imagination. If he had willed him into existence because Rhett’s day felt hollow without his boss’s presence.  He kept an eye on the clock on the far wall near the lift, agonizing at the torpid approach of the lunch hour.

 

At ten ‘til, he gave up and tidied away the remaining stacks of work in favor of taking an early lunch. He bent down to pick up his briefcase, but as he sat back up again, the lift doors opened to reveal a sight that made Rhett’s blood curdle.

 

“Oh, you have got to be joking,” he growled as Gregg approached, his every movement reeking of his trademark overblown entitlement. He came to a stop mere inches from Rhett’s desk. Rhett’s voice wavered as he quietly asked, “What are you doing here, Gregg?”

 

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Gregg demanded loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. Rhett flinched, not missing the several pairs of eyes that were now trained on them from all corners of the office. Desperately, Rhett rose and ushered Gregg into Mr. Neal’s office, and once the door was closed behind them, he rounded on the man.

 

“You have no right-”

 

“You have no right to ignore me like this,” Gregg hissed, his composure lost the second they were alone.

 

“I have  _ every _ right,” Rhett spat incredulously. “Especially when I’ve already told you I don’t-”

 

“You don’t know what you want, Rhett!” He laughed, crowding up in Rhett’s space. Rhett automatically took a step back.

 

“And you think you’re qualified to make that call?” He sputtered, wishing with every fiber of his being for some kind of divine intervention, something to remove this man from his presence. Gregg’s sincerity was turning Rhett’s stomach.

 

“Well, of the two of us,” he said, “I seem to be the only one in his right mind.” His upper lip twisted up like he smelled something terrible, and in his eyes, Rhett could see open contempt. Gregg turned away, gazing upon the lavish office, with Mr. Neal’s impressive desk, polished drink cart, and chic lounge area. A nasty jealousy lit in Rhett, an angry inner monologue shouting that Gregg shouldn’t be here, not in Mr. Neal’s space, not in the place where they spent so much time alone together.

 

“Gregg, I think you need to leave.”

 

“So, this is his office, then,” Gregg noted nonchalantly as he walked over to the sofa. He gave the leg a little kick before he turned to Rhett with a hateful snarl and hissed, “Is this where he fucks you?” Rhett took a shaky breath as a thrill of heat ran through his chest. Gregg glanced across the room. “Or over there, on the desk? Both places, maybe?”

 

“Gregg,” Rhett said with a warning tone. Gregg rounded on Rhett, grabbing a fistful of Rhett’s shirt as he glared up at the man.

 

“And where does he like to put you when he’s beating you, huh?” He demanded. “When he’s abusing you?” Rhett felt his whole face flush hot, and his hands shook at his sides.

 

“You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Does he at least apologize when he’s done degrading you?”

 

“Stop.”

 

“He’s a monster, Rhett. You’re not well, and he’s taking advantage of you.”

 

“I’m perfectly fine.”

 

“If you were perfectly fine, you wouldn’t have called me on Saturday night, drunk out of your mind, crying about how horrible he is. About how much you wish he loved you.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Oh my god, you don’t remember? He came to your room. He tried to use you. You said it yourself.”

 

“I don’t-” Rhett said as he broke out into a cold sweat as he listened to Gregg recount the events of two nights previous.

 

“And in the midst of your despair, whose number is the first on your mind? Rhett, I don’t know why you can’t see what’s best for you. Are you afraid of him? I can help you. I can take you away from him. He doesn’t love you. You know that. No one who loves you would want to hurt you.”

 

“Gregg, I’m only going to say this once, so you’d better listen real damn close. Yeah, he may never love me. He may not be the right one for me, he may not ever understand how he makes me feel. And after this weekend, he may never even want to see me again. And that’s fine. But if for one second, you think that you’re the good guy in this equation, you could not be more mistaken. You’re less than nothing to me. You don’t deserve me. You don’t now, and you never did.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m cutting you out of my life. I don’t want you. I don’t want to see you. I want you to go.”

 

“Rhett, this hold he has on you-”

 

“You heard the man. Get out or I’ll have the police escort you out.” Link said with a booming voice as he slammed his office door shut.

 

“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m handing it.” Rhett said, his knees shook as he saw the burning anger in Mr. Neal’s eyes.

 

“Back to your desk, Rhett.” Link said, his eyes trained on Gregg.

 

“But sir-”

 

“That’s an order, Rhett,” Link replied through gritted teeth.

 

Rhett slowly exited the room, closing the door gently behind him. He didn’t follow his bosses command to the letter. Instead he stood at the door, his ear pressed to it hoping to overhear his former lover and current boss.

 

“You need to leave.” Link said, his voice so calm it was almost menacing.

 

“I’m just trying to protect Rhett, I care about him, unlike you,” Gregg sneered.

 

“I do care about him. I care about him so much I’ve been avoiding him all Goddamned day because I don’t want to hurt him again. I know I’m no good for him, he deserves better than me. But he deserves better than you too. You don’t get to show up here and demand anything from him. Now please leave my office, and my company quietly. If you make a scene or show up here again I promise, I will not hesitate to call the police.”

 

“Someone who cares about him wouldn’t get off on physically hurting him,” Gregg said as he put on his overcoat and made his way to the door.

 

“Someone who cares about him would give him what he needs,” Link said as he opened the door, and ushered Gregg out. 

 

Rhett had made it back to his desk a millisecond before Link opened the door. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as Gregg huffed past him, down the hall to the elevator and out of his life.

 

“Rhett, come in here please,” Link said quietly.

 

Rhett took a slow steady breath, stood and entered Mr. Neal’s office. He closed and locked the door behind him. 

 

“Sit down, Rhett,” Link said, gesturing to the sofa.

 

Link paced back and forth silently, his hands in his pockets. It looked like he was about to speak a few times before he stopped himself and rephrased his though. He ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair and finally said, “I need to know what you want from me.”

 

“I’m sorry sir?” Rhett replied.

 

“I- this is all new for me. Our, uh, activities. I’ve never… with anyone…. Let alone a man. Friday night you were in my room, begging not to leave, moaning my name minutes later in your room. Saturday you pushed me away. I just don’t know what you want from me.”

 

Rhett dared to look up, to meet Link’s eyes which were red. Link gave a weak smile and flopped down on the far end of the sofa. He looked like he had gotten as little sleep as Rhett had the night before, and that he had been avoiding Rhett out of embarrassment not anger.

 

Rhett sighed as some of the weight lifted off his heart. “I turned you away Saturday because earlier Feldman had tried something with  me and I told him in no uncertain terms that I was yours. But he kept pushing. Later I felt a man in my bed and hands on my body and I thought it was him. It upset me.”

 

“Feldman,” Link replied, balling his hands into fists, “what an asshole.”

 

“And then I realized it was you and you we’re so drunk and you were acting like you were entitled to my body, the same way Feldman had acted earlier. You are not. I choose to let you hit me or spank me or choke me. I will happily choose to let you do a whole lot more to me. But ultimately it’s my choice.”

 

Link extended his index finger to his lips and closed his eyes for a moment. He exhaled slowly and deliberately. “I… I’m sorry Rhett,” he said quietly.

 

“Can I propose something?” Rhett asked, as he inched closer to Link on the couch.

 

Link nodded.

 

“It’s common for people like us to have what’s called a ‘safe-word.’ It’s a word I can say when things are too much. When I’m overwhelmed or in too much pain or just need things to stop. When I use that word you must stop, no question, no anger. You must stop and move on. It’s a way for you to know that I’m ok with what you are doing and a way for me to tell you when I really can’t handle what is happening.”

 

“I can see how that would be a useful tool,” Link replied. “Do you have a word in mind?”

 

“It needs to be something we wouldn’t normally say… did you have a childhood pet?”

 

“No, my uncle had a farm and the rooster was named Belvedere… would that do?” Link replied.

 

“Perfect,” Rhett grinned.

 

The pair inched closer together. Link wrapped his arms around Rhett in a tight hug. Rhett practically melted into his broad shoulders, warping his long arm around Link. They stayed that way for a few seconds before Link grasped Rhett’s chin, gently tipping his face up to meet his. 

 

As Link’s lips moved closer to Rhett’s he wondered if this really could be happening. If he had found someone who could give him what he needed. He had found men who would love him, and he had found men who would own him, but never someone who could do both. Gregg’s words echoed in Rhett’s mind,  _ He doesn’t love you. You know that. No one who loves you would want to hurt you.  _  Before Link’s lips could meet Rhett’s, Rhett pulled back, overwhelmed, a tear falling down his cheek. 

 

“Belvedere,” he said, quietly.

 

Link cleared his throat and stood up. He looked sad and confused but instead cleared his throat. “I think from now on you’d better have lunch in here with me. No more suitors showing up and disrupting business.”

 

Rhett wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “yes sir.”

 

“Go home. You look exhausted. Take the rest of the day. I’ll tell Stevie you went home sick.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Rhett croaked out as he tried not to burst into tears.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to mythicalmonochrome for beta reading. This is my first chapter flying solo so please validate me with comments <3

Rhett arrived to work on Tuesday, a fair sight better than the day before. He felt good about Mr. Neal finally opening up to him, but the near kiss and his reaction to it was something he hadn’t seen coming, and it threw him for a loop. After being sent home, he collapsed into bed, emotionally and physically exhausted. 

 

A good night’s sleep had him feeling much better. He whistled a tune as he put his sack lunch in the fridge and set to make coffee for his boss. He carefully carried the mug back to his desk, placing it down momentarily while he removed his overcoat. He smoothed out his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and entered Mr. Neal’s office. 

 

“Good morning, sir,” he said as he placed the coffee on Mr. Neal’s desk.

 

“Mhmm, yes,” his boss replied. His desk was covered in papers and schemata. It was eight AM but by the looks of things Mr. Neal had been there since sunrise. Rhett knew he was preparing for a meeting with the partners and juniors that was to take place on Thursday, so he quietly made his way to the door, back to his desk.

 

“I need you to take a letter,” Link said, not looking up from his work.

 

“Yes sir, let me grab my pad.”

 

Rhett returned a moment later with a pen and steno pad. He looked around the room for the small stool that had been the bane of his existence.

 

“I put your stool away. From now on, unless there are others in the room, you will kneel here when taking dictation. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir,” Rhett replied as he dropped to his knees beside the desk. He tried to hide the grin on his face.

 

Link dictated a letter, nothing out of the ordinary, but Rhett’s knees ached, and he tried not to squirm as he took down the shorthand.

 

“The next few days are going to be a lot of work as preparation for the partners meeting on Thursday. I’ll need to make use of your… talents.”

 

“I understand, how can I be of service?” Rhett replied, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes trained on the floor.

 

“I have some filing for you to do,” he said, picking up a stack of files. He walked over to the coffee table on the far side of the room and dropped them on the table. “I need you to take these and file them here,” he walked briskly across the room and opened a low filing cabinet behind his desk. Rhett raised an eyebrow. That job would probably only take a few minutes and was nothing out of the ordinary. He started to stand when Mr. Neal raised a hand. “No. On your hands and knees.”

 

“...Oh,” Rhett replied. “Y-yes, sir.”

 

Rhett felt butterflies in his stomach. He now understood what Mr. Neal had meant about  _ utilizing his talents _ . The whole mess in Florida had finally cracked things open, and Rhett buzzed with excitement from being used this way. He slowly and deliberately crawled across the white shag carpet to the stack of files on the coffee table. He used his small chin to position the top file so he could grab it with his teeth. He made his way back across the room on all fours, the manilla file in his mouth. Drool pooled in his beard as he got to the filing cabinet. He stalled not sure how to proceed.

 

“You may use your hands to deposit the file in its proper spot,” His boss said calmly as he took a seat at his desk. Rhett raised up on his knees, the file still in his mouth. He searched through the files until he found the correct spot and lowered the file in his mouth into position.

 

“Good. Continue,” His boss said as he picked up the receiver on his black telephone.

 

Rhett crawled back across the room as he heard the dial spin. 

 

“Hello, Micha, it’s Neal… Yes, he’s expecting my call. Yes, you too, thank you,” Link drummed his pen on his desk as he waited to be connected.

 

Rhett’s ears piqued at the mention of Micha.

 

“Hello, Feldman. Yes, I had a great time in Florida… you’ve got quite the home… I need some figures on the Centre Plaza Project… yes…”

 

Rhett felt hot at the mention of Feldman’s name. Unpleasant memories from Key Biscayne washed over him. The disgusting man’s breath on his neck and body on top of him. He tried to calm himself. He concentrated on putting one knee in front of the other, on not dropping the file in his mouth. He could feel Mr. Neal’s eyes on him, and he arched his back, sticking his round ass up in the air as he proudly made his way past his boss’ desk. 

 

An hour later, Link was still on the phone and Rhett was finally on his last file. He was glad to be almost finished. His knees and shoulders ached, but he also loved the attention of being his boss’ entertainment as Feldman droned on about facts and figures on the telephone. 

 

Rhett placed the last file in the cabinet and closed it with his shoulder. Link snapped his fingers and pointed to his feet. Rhett crawled over to the spot Link was pointing at and waited obediently.

 

“Alright, that’s it, thanks, Feldman. Oh, one other thing,” Link said as he ran his fingers through Rhett’s gold hair, giving a slight tug at the nape of his neck. “If you ever so much as  _ look _ at Rhett again, I will make sure everyone knows about who you  _ really  _ are.” Link’s fingers twined in his hair, twirling a lock around playfully, “He’s  _ my _ secretary. Goodbye.” Link slammed the receiver down.

 

Rhett tried not to beam with pride. He appreciated his boss standing up to Feldman and defending his honor and the way Link’s hands tangled in his hair sent a shiver down his spine.

 

“Rhett, do you remember what we discussed about lunch time, yesterday?”

 

“Yes sir, I’m to eat here with you. May I go get my lunch? It’s in the fridge.”

 

“I don’t think you understood. When I said you would be having lunch with me, I meant you would be eating what I give you.”

 

“Oh,” Rhett replied, “Of course.”

 

Link pulled out two slices of bread and a jar of peanut butter. He liberally spread peanut butter on one slice of bread, topped the sandwich with the other slice and then cut the crust off. He slowly ate his sandwich, almost painfully slow. Rhett wondered how many times it was possible to chew one small bite. His boss’ jaw clicked as he chewed and chewed. He silently poured over paperwork, while he ate.

 

Rhett’s stomach let out a growl. He clasped his hands over his belly as if that would do anything to silence it. 

 

Link finished his sandwich and emptied his cup coffee. He collected the crust he had cut off earlier into his palm and held it down to Rhett. “Eat,” he commanded. 

 

Rhett lowered his lips to his boss’ hand, eating the measly crust. The few bites of food only made his stomach gurgle with want.

 

Link opened the jar of peanut butter and stuck the butter knife in, pulling out a large clump which he ate off the tip of the blade. He ran his index finger down the knife collecting the remnants of peanut butter that he offered to Rhett.

 

Rhett slowly took his finger into his mouth, gently holding it in place with his teeth as he licked it clean. He always loved peanut butter, but the taste of his boss’ skin in his mouth sent a shockwave of pleasure through his body. It was so  _ intimate. _

 

Link pressed gently down on his tongue, then harder. Rhett’s eyes rolled back, letting out a small whimper as he gagged slightly. Link ran his finger along the inside of his upper lip, then his lower one, pulling and prodding his lips open. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Rhett loved it.

 

Link wiped his hand on a napkin and cleared his throat. “Go back to your desk. Type up that letter and then deal with the paperwork you fell behind on yesterday.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Rhett said. His knees were weak as he stood from crawling around for hours. He steadied himself for a moment on the desk before the numbness in his legs dissipated and he was able to walk again.

 

“Oh, and Rhett, you may eat your normal dinner, but no more than usual.”

 

“I understand,” Rhett said as his stomach groaned once more.

 

“I need coffee. You may have coffee as well, black. No cream or sugar for you.”

 

“Right away, sir.”

 

Rhett made his way to the kitchen and fixed them both a cup of coffee. He cringed at the thought of drinking the black, bitter liquid but he needed a pick me up, and a snack was not an option. 

 

“Rhett, where have you been all day?!” Stevie asked as she cornered him in the break room.

 

“Oh, you know, Mr. Neal always keeps me busy,” Rhett said with a cheeky smile.

 

“While he’d better not be riding you too hard! I made cookies, everyone pounced on them like a bunch of vultures, but I saved you a few. Here!” she said as she pressed a napkin with three chocolate chip cookies into his palm. 

 

“Um, thanks Stevie,” he said sheepishly.

 

Rhett thought about it as he walked back to his desk with two coffees and the cookies. He could duck into the men’s room and scarf them down in a few seconds, and Mr. Neal would never know. But that would defeat the purpose. If he wanted to serve him, that meant following his orders even when he wasn’t around. He sighed as he threw the cookies in his wastepaper basket. He rearranged some papers on top to conceal them, brought Link his coffee and then settled into his desk to resume work. He took a swig from his mug, forgetting the bitterness inside and grimaced.

 

By the time Rhett got home after work, he was shaky with hunger. He opened his pantry and surveyed the contents. He didn’t trust himself to make pasta, too easy to accidentally make too much and overeat. Crackers? He could probably eat the entire box. He found a can of chicken noodle soup, which he heated up in a small pot and toasted two slices of bread which he liberally buttered. For Rhett, it was a small meal, but he didn’t want to break Link’s rule and overeat. He went to bed hungry, but the achievement of following Mr. Neal’s orders were somehow more satisfying than a belly full of food.

  
  


The next day morning Link beckoned Rhett into his office.

 

“I need the box of reports that were delivered a few weeks ago from the Charlotte office.”

 

“I’m sorry? Which box?”

 

“Rhett,” Link replied, removing his glasses and rubbing his temple. “It would have come over with the financial reports.”

 

“You mean, those four dozen boxes I put in long-term storage?” Rhett said, his face paling.

 

“Why would you put a box labeled ‘current, do not store’ in,  _ fucking  _ long-term storage?!” Link said as he stood, pounding a fist on his desk.

 

“Oh, God… Ms. Bassett was helping me and… I’ll… I’ll find it.”

 

“Goddammit, Rhett. I told you not to trust her. Undermining bitch probably did it on purpose. I’m going to look like an idiot in front of the partners.” Link’s forehead began to gleam with sweat as he paced back and forth, raging. 

 

Rhett’s vision narrowed and he only heard a few words escape his boss’ lips.  _ Idiot, useless,  _ and  _ dumb eye candy. _ He felt like a world class idiot. How could he fuck up so badly? He could feel the steam pouring out of Mr. Neal’s ears as he yelled. Rhett sank to his knees in front of his boss. “Hit me,” he pleaded. 

 

“What?” Link questioned. Rhett’s words pulled him out of his diatribe, and he looked down at Rhett with his steely blue eyes.

 

“Please, just... it will make both of us feel better. Give me a black eye for all I care. I deserve it. I promise I would never do anything to make you look bad. I can’t believe I am such an idiot. Please.” Rhett was practically shaking. 

 

Link hesitated for a moment and then pulled back, slapping Rhett across the face.

 

“Harder, don’t hold back. Please.”

 

Link raised his hand above his head and struck Rhett across the cheek, his iron ring made contact with Rhett’s cheekbone, and he toppled over, groaning in pain.

 

Link calmly walked over to the bar cart and filled a napkin with ice. He twisted the cloth and knelt down beside Rhett, who was grasping his pink cheek. Link gently removed Rhett’s hand and placed the ice on the bruising skin. The pair stayed there silently for a moment. Link’s breath slowed his face was no longer red with anger. “Ok,” he said calmly. “You’re going to go down to the storage room and find it. It should be in a brown box with a white lid. It was smaller than the others.”

 

Rhett nodded, as he tried to hold back tears. He got to his feet and swiftly walked towards the door.

 

“I don’t want to even look at you until you have that box.”

 

“Yes sir,” he said as he deposited the ice on the coffee table and took off down the long hallway to the storage room. His loafers clapped on the linoleum tile as he briskly walked down the hall. He wished he could sprint down the hall, but the tears in his eyes and his red cheek were already alarming enough. 

 

Finally, he made it to the storage room and felt the relief of the heavy metal door closing behind him. The tears fell hot on his bruising cheek. If this mistake had screwed things up for his boss, he didn’t know what he would do. Quit? Maybe. Mr. Neal deserved better, someone who could actually be administrative support, not a distraction in a tight suit.

 

Rhett pulled down box after box. His back and shoulders ached, but he pressed on, diligently searching every shelf.

 

As the hours passed the uneasiness in his stomach grew. Finally, on a bottom shelf in a far corner, he spotted a box that fit Mr. Neal’s description. He cleared a few others out of the way and yelped with excitement when he realized he had finally found it. He picked it up quickly and as he did felt a sharp  _ pop _ in the middle of his back.

 

Despite being in agony, he carried the box triumphantly down the hall. When he got to Mr. Neal’s office, he found it vacant. He put the box on the desk and collapsed face down on the sofa. A few minutes later the door opened. He tried to get up but couldn’t, immobilized with pain from his back.

 

“Jesus, you ok?” Link asked with genuine concern.

 

“I threw out my back lifting boxes,” Rhett moaned. “But I found the box. It’s on your desk.”

 

“I have Advil?” 

 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Rhett replied.

 

Link went to his desk and fetched two tablets and poured Rhett a glass of water. He knelt down beside Rhett and placed the pills on his tongue and helped him take a sip of water. “Don’t move for a bit. Let those kick in first, ok?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Link returned to his desk, opened the box and sighed with relief that the documents he needed were in his possession. He got to work while Rhett lay quietly on the sofa.

 

“Maybe you should try to get up now?” Link asked after some time had passed.

 

“Okay,” Rhett said weakly. He put his hands under his chest to prop himself up but instead yelped and collapsed again. “Sir, I’m sorry I know you’re preparing for your meeting, and I’ve already wasted your time by misplacing that dang file, but I need help.”

 

Link walked over to the sofa and looked down at Rhett who looked weak as a kitten. “What do you need?”

 

“I need you to pop my disk back into place. You need to put your hands firmly on the middle of my back-”

 

“Here?” Link asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa beside Rhett, his hands on the middle of his back.

 

“Down a little… There’s good. Okay-” Rhett took a deep breath. “Press down firmly on my count. Three- two- one-”

 

Link pressed hard into Rhett’s back while Rhett raised his upper body off the sofa. Rhett’s back cracked audibly, and Rhett whimpered but was able to sit up.

 

“Gosh, thank you, Sir.”

 

Link’s hands were still on Rhett’s back as they traveled down, rucking up his shirt. Link moved back behind him on the sofa as he gently pressed his thumbs into Rhett’s back, making small circles around the injured area. His hands moved further up under Rhett’s shirt to his shoulders and back down around his sides, dangerously close to his waistband and then back up again to the injured spot. He smoothed his warm palms over Rhett’s freckled skin. “Better?” he asked as he removed his hands and lowered the back of Rhett’s shirt.

 

“Y-yes. Thank you. I’ll go back to my desk, let you prepare.”

 

“Rhett?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Coffee.”

 

“Right away, sir.”

 

By the time he got home, Rhett was exhausted. He hadn’t eaten since a measly bowl of cereal that morning. He had been too preoccupied in the storage room to even get down coffee. He ran the hot water in the tub, as hot as he could stand, and stripped off his clothes while it filled. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. It had only been two days, but his face looked gaunt and his cheek was already visibly bruised. He expected it would be much worse in the morning. He winced as he gently dragged a finger along the darkest part. He turned off the tap and sunk into the hot water. He was relieved he had eventually found the box, but the thought that he could have fucked up Mr. Neal’s partner meeting made him feel sick. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight as the hot water worked out the knots in his back. For the second time that day, tears rolled down his cheeks. He cried so hard he began to hyperventilate, struggling to breathe. 

He thought about Link’s hands on his skin. How he had slapped him so hard he keeled over, and the electric rush of pain and pleasure that brought. Also, how tender he was. The way his long fingers rubbed the knots out of Rhett’s back, the way he gently grazed Rhett’s skin. The thought of his boss’ hands calmed him down. His tears ceased, and he was able to relax.

  
  


Thursday morning, he showed up exceptionally early. He knew Mr. Neal would be nervous about his meeting and he wanted to make sure he was there for him. He dutifully brought his boss a cup of coffee.

 

“How is your back?” his boss asked as Rhett slid the mug into his hand.

 

“Much better. Thank you for helping me yesterday. Are you ready for your meeting?”

 

Link sighed and looked up from his notes. “I’m nervous,” he said with a small sideways smile.

 

Rhett sat down in one of the upholstered armchairs, “Do your presentation. Pretend I’m the partners.”

 

Link stood up and glanced at his notes he began to speak but his hands shook, and he stumbled over his words. Rhett reached out and gently took Link’s hand, guiding it to his throat. Link’s mouth went even dryer as Rhett wrapped Link’s fingers around his neck. 

 

Rhett gave a small nod, and Link’s fingers tightened around Rhett’s neck as he spoke. The harder he choked Rhett, the more confidently he spoke. He let up for a moment as he paused Rhett quickly sucked in a deep breath. Just as his lungs filled Link squeezed again, the pads of his fingers digging into the tendons in Rhett’s neck. Just as the edges of Rhett’s vision blacken Link would let up, allowing him to catch a small breath before his hands were back on him, pressing his Adam’s apple down roughly. 

 

He finished his presentation confidently and gently slid his fingers along Rhett’s neck, he adjusted Rhett’s collar and let his hand fall to his side.

 

Rhett coughed a few times, his voice was weak, but he quietly spoke, “You’ve got this,” he said as he grinned at his boss. 

 

Link let out a small chuckle, “We’ll see… I won’t be here for lunch, but I expect you to eat in my office by yourself. I’ll leave something for you.”

 

“Yes sir, thank you.”

 

Link collected his items to head out for his meeting. Rhett stood, dutifully holding his overcoat out for him. Rhett smoothed his large hands down Link’s shoulders as he adjusted the coat. “You’ll be great,” he said, looking down at his handsome boss. “You always are.”

 

Link nodded and left for his meeting.

 

Rhett spent the morning at his desk making calls and typing notes. It was boring, but he was happy to do it. Mid-morning Stevie came to the office. She cleared a few papers and sat on his desk, her long legs swinging back and forth.

 

“What happened to you?” she said, smoothing her thumb over his black and blue cheek. 

 

Rhett winced, “My clumsy self walked into a door frame yesterday. Bruised the crap out of my cheek.” he said with a sheepish grin.

 

“Hmm, right,” Stevie said, unconvinced. “Hey, Ellie, Chase and I are going to lunch at the diner. Wanna join?“

 

“Oh thanks, Stevie, I can’t I have to work through lunch.”

 

“Rhett, live a little. He’s not going to be back today. You can eat lunch with us. Remember me? Your friend? I never see you anymore and when I do you’re all beat up and being weird.”

 

Rhett sighed. He did miss Stevie. And she was right, his boss would never know if he didn’t eat what he’d brought for him. For all he knew his lunch could be nothing but a package of stale crackers. He could throw it in the bin and go have a burger and fries with his friends. His stomach growled at the idea. It had been days since he’d had a proper meal. “No… I’d better not. I’m sorry Stevie.”

 

“Fine,” she said as she hopped off his desk, knocking his wastepaper basket over in the process. The uneaten cookies she’d given him yesterday spilled out onto the floor. He quickly bent down to scoop them up, but it was too late. When she did see them, her brow knit with hurt.

 

“Stevie I’m sorry, I-”

 

“Ugh, whatever, Rhett. Come or don’t. It’s up to you.” she said as she walked away from his desk.

 

His body buzzed with anxiety. He felt bad for not enjoying the cookies she had worked so to make. He felt terrible that she had saved some specifically for him and they’d gone to waste. He hated that he had hurt her when she had been nothing but a kind friend to him. 

 

Stevie, Chase, and Ellie walked past his desk on the way to lunch. Ellie turned and shot him a dirty look which made him feel utter garbage. He went into Mr. Neal’s office and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. The refuge of the quiet office away from other people helped calm him.

 

He went over to the sofa where a white paper bag sat on the coffee table, a black-handled can opener beside it. He opened the bag and pulled out napkins, an unmarked tin can, and a fork. He inspected the can and wondered what horror awaited him. Dog food? Canned spinach? He sighed and opened the can.

 

He raised the lid and was delighted to see it filled with baked beans. He was sure Mr. Neal meant it to be an exercise in torture. Little did he know Rhett had loved beans his entire life and would often crack open a can of beans as a treat. 

 

He dug in enthusiastically eating bite after bite after slightly sweet and savory beans. He put the can down gently and dabbed at the sauce which dripped in his beard with a napkin before picking up the can and eating more. As he ate, his thoughts turned to his boss. He hoped his meeting had gone well. He wondered what he was eating, probably a huge steak with hollandaise and all the fixings washed down with scotch.

 

Rhett enjoyed the rest of his beans. He wiped his face and hands with napkins, and cleaned up a few drops of sauce that had fallen on the coffee table. He put the napkins in the paper bag as well as the empty can and folded the bag up and set it aside. He smoothed out his navy blue suit and adjusted his salmon tie. He clasped his hands in his lap. 

 

He spent the rest of his lunch break sitting still on the sofa. He thought about how even though Mr. Neal wasn’t there, he was always with him and he wanted to please him, even if he wasn’t there to witness it. His lunch break ended and he returned to his desk. He spent the afternoon working quietly, and occasionally he would reach up and gently press a finger into the tender flesh on his neck, thinking about his boss’ hand choking him, and smile.

 

Friday morning Rhett brushed his teeth as he prepared for work. His cheek was still bruised, turning from purple to yellow and his neck and the imprints of Link’s long slim fingers wrapped around his neck. He looked like an absolute mess, but he didn’t care. It was worth it. He opened his cupboard and pulled out a small jar of pomade. He slicked it through his hair. Then he took out a small bottle of oil, shook a few drops into his palm and smoothed it in his beard. 

 

He dug through his bureau until he found a dark mustard colored turtleneck. There was little he could do to hide the bruised cheek but the neck, he could cover. He topped it off with a brown corduroy sports coat and tan bell-bottom slacks.  He always took pride in his appearance, but he enjoyed primping even more for Link. He relished in the little moments when he would catch his boss staring at him. How he would awkwardly clear his throat and look away.

 

Link had a meeting out of the office first thing, so Rhett’s morning at work was uneventful. He found himself missing Link’s presence. He went about his day counting down the minutes until he’d get to see him again.

 

Late morning, Link arrived in the company of another man who had a hand truck with a cooler and a few boxes on it. Rhett quirked an eyebrow as Link opened the door to his office and closed it behind them. Rhett could hear that the men were talking but not what they were saying. Eventually, the door opened. “I’ll be back at five to get everything,” he said, shaking Link’s hand.

 

“Rhett, come in here please.” Link said.

 

Rhett walked into the office to see a small card table set up by the window, with the two armchairs that usually sat in front of the desk. The table was set with a crisp white tablecloth, silverware, crystal glasses and two plates covered with silver metal domes.

 

“I wanted to thank you for your help this week.”

 

Rhett was shocked by the gesture. “Sir, this… it’s too much.”

 

“Come, sit,” he said motioning to the table. “Before lunch, there’s something I want to ask you.”

 

Rhett sat down and watched as Link paced back and forth eventually he stopped, towering over Rhett.

 

‘Do you belong to me, Rhett?” He asked.

 

Rhett became hot and flustered. “I- what?” He choked out.

 

“Do you belong to me? Are you happy with this arrangement?”

 

“Uh...yes.” His brain malfunctioned at Link’s frankness.

 

“So say it.”

 

“S-say what?” Rhett’s mouth went dry.

 

“Say you belong to me,” Link said, pressing his fingers firmly into Rhett’s shoulder. 

 

The contact grounded him. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he replied, “I belong to you. Only you.”

 

“Good,” Link replied. He fished a small brown leather box out of his pocket and handed it to Rhett.

 

Rhett opened the box to see a gold I.D. bracelet. It was made of thick links of gold chain paired with a rectangular plate.  _ Rhett _ was written in a rope script. He held the bracelet in his hand and felt the weight of it. He turned it over, the inside of the plate was also engraved with  _ C.L.N. _ He ran his index finger slowly over his boss’ initials and smiled. Link gently took the bracelet from his hand, and Rhett held out his wrist. Link pushed back his cuff and turned Rhett’s hand over in his. He positioned the plate and clasped the chain around Rhett’s wrist. Rhett looked down with pride at the small token of ownership bestowed upon him. 

 

Link poured them each a glass of red wine and removed the food domes. Each plate contained golden pastry-wrapped beef wellington, a stuffed baked potato and sauteed mushrooms and zucchini in herb butter. It was piping hot and smelt delicious.

 

Rhett dug in with gusto, practically shoveling food in his mouth.

 

“Slow down,” Link ordered.

 

Rhett put down his knife and fork and concentrated on chewing slowly. He’d always been a fast easter with a massive appetite but he slowly enjoyed his food, letting the flavors and textures wash over him he sighed contentedly at how delicious it was. 

  
Throughout the meal Link filled Rhett in on his meeting with the other partners. How it had gone well. Lizzie had flubbed a few figures during her presentation and Benson reprimanded her for it which delighted Link to no end. Rhett listened intently and chuckled at Lizzie’s misfortune. Under the table, Rhett slid his index finger under the bracelet and traced the letters on the underside.  _ C.L.N. _ and smiled.          


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains bladder control play. Consider yourself warned.

Over the next few weeks, Link’s demands became more and more bold. From eight AM to five PM, Rhett indulged Link’s every command. Stapling stacks of paper with his chin, spankings for typos, crawling around on the floor, eating whatever food his boss deemed appropriate. Thankfully, Link had been feeding him a more reasonable amount. Less than he would normally eat himself, but enough that his belt only had to be tightened one notch, and most days his stomach didn’t groan with pangs. 

 

Rhett breezed through the office halls with an airy confidence. He knew his place–kneeling at his boss’ feet, awaiting his next demand. It was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

He lounged  at his desk and quietly typed when the intercom buzzed, beckoning him into his boss’ office. It was all he could do to wipe the grin off his face, before he twisted the knob to enter. 

 

“Ms. Bassett will be in for a meeting shortly. I need you to take notes.”

 

“Yes sir,” Rhett replied, eyes trained on the floor. He stood seven inches over his boss, but he loved how the man always managed to make him feel small.

 

Link went to the bar cart and retrieved a large pitcher of ice water and a glass. He poured a glass, and placed it on the desk in front of Rhett.

 

“Drink,” Link commanded. 

 

Rhett cocked an eyebrow, and picked up the glass as he drank down the cool water. Link nodded, and poured him another one. Rhett continued to drink each glass of water Link provided, now up to four of them, each one downed in quick succession, gasping for breath by the end. He wiped water out of his beard with the back of his hand. He didn’t know why Mr. Neal wanted him to drink so much water, but it didn’t really matter why because he would always do as he was told, submitting to Link’s every command. 

 

“Go to the kitchen and fill this up and bring it back.”

 

“Yes sir,” Rhett replied, taking the empty pitcher from his hand.

 

“No pit stops, Rhett.”

 

Rhett obediently nodded. 

 

When he returned, Lizzie had arrived for the meeting. Link sat behind the large oak desk, and Lizzie lounged in a fabric armchair on the other side of the desk. Link motioned for Rhett to sit in a matching chair beside her, and Mr. Neal poured him another glass of water that he instructed Rhett drank. The meeting was nothing out of the ordinary; they discussed the Centre Plaza Project. Cost projections, which subcontractors to use, the virtues of different types of pipe–all the standards. 

 

Rhett looked at his watch, and noticed an hour had gone by. He wondered how long the meeting would go on for as he began to tap his foot impatiently.

 

Link got up and fixed himself a scotch, Lizzie a vodka soda, and another tall glass of water for Rhett. He handed the drink to Lizzie, and her petal pink nails wrapped tightly around the highball glass.“Thanks, Neal. As I was saying I just think PVC is better. It’s more modern. I think it will save us headaches down the-”

 

“Drink you water, Rhett,” Link said, interrupting his collegue.

 

“I’m not thirsty, sir,” Rhett replied, his eyes locking with Link’s steel blue gaze.

 

“Drink it.”

 

Rhett lifted  up the glass and took a long sip, his eyes squinting as he swallowed. The room was filled with an awkward silence as Rhett took a few more long sips, and placed the empty glass on the desk. 

 

“That’s all well and good, Bassett. But copper is cheaper, we have a bottom line to remember.” Link replied like they hadn’t just spent a full minute watching his other employee drink a glass of water.

 

“Um,” Lizzie replied, her attention turning back to the conversation. “It may be slightly cheaper, but we’re known as the best firm in Raleigh, not the cheapest. We don’t cut corners to save a buck.” 

 

Rhett went from tapping his foot to bouncing a knee. He realized what was going on. He had to pee. Not just a little now, and he suddenly felt like he was going to burst. 

 

“Quit fidgeting,” Link snapped.

 

Rhett quieted his bouncing knee, and anxiously crossed one leg over the other. He knew it wasn’t a particularly masculine way to sit but in that moment it was better than pissing his pants. He let out a soft whimper, and Link grinned as he continued on.

 

Lizzie looked over with concern. “Maybe we should take a break.”

 

“He’s fine,” Link replied.

 

“Rhett, we can take a bathroom break. I could use one myself.”

 

Rhett looked at Link with pleading urgency.

 

Link made the slightest  _ no _ motion with the shake of his head.

 

“I’m fine, Ms. Bassett. Carry on,” Rhett replied with a strained smile.

 

Link got up, and poured another round for Rhett. Rhett’s breath hitched as the tumbler of water was put in front of him, and his hands trembled as he slowly drained the glass. He placed it on the desk with a satisfying thump once he was finished. Lizzie watched the whole scene with a knitted brow. 

 

Rhett felt hot, like his cheeks were flushed. He put his notepad on his lap, and continued to write while his left hand slid underneath the pad. He grabbed his crotch through his pants in a desperate attempt to keep himself from voiding his bladder right then and there. As his hand grabbed desperately at his crotch, he suddenly realized he was hard as a rock. 

 

His eyelids fluttered quickly as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He watched the glee in Link’s eyes at his pain.  _ Please _ , he thought as he stared at his boss.  _ Please, PLEASE _ , he screamed internally. There was nothing stopping him from getting up, from leaving and going to the washroom, and feeling the sweet relief. Surely whatever punishment he got for disobeying couldn’t be as bad as this. He squeezed his crotch again. Even if he did get up he would have this massive erection to deal with, not to mention the very real possibility that he would let loose, and piss his pants in front of his boss and Ms. Bassett.

 

Link swirled his drink, causing the ice to clink against the glass and the liquor to slosh back and forth. Rhett’s hand gripped his cock tight through his pants, his thumb involuntarily began to stroke the length of it as his bladder burned hot with the need for relief. Rhett abandoned his notetaking and his right hand dug into the fabric arm of the chair as his left hand gripped tight.

 

“Alright. I think that’s about it. You got anything else?” Lizzie said, butting out a cigarette in the brass ashtray on Link’s desk.

 

“No, that will be all,” Link said as he got up to show Lizzie to the door. 

 

Rhett moaned quietly with relief as Link locked the door behind her.

 

Link made his way back over to Rhett, and leaned back on the desk directly in front of him. Had Rhett not been crossing his legs so tightly, his boss would have been practically standing between them.

 

“Do you know why I did that?” Link asked with folded arms as he glanced and Rhett over is tortoise shell glasses.

 

“Y-yes sir,” Rhett replied shakily.

 

“Why’s that then?” 

 

“To show me that even when–to the outside world–I appear to be an equal, sitting in a chair instead of on my knees, that you still have total control over me?” Rhett replied.

 

“Very good. I imagine you won’t make it to the lavatory.” Link said as he reached over, grabbed the nearly empty pitcher, and handed it to Rhett.

 

Link walked over to the big picture window, and gazed down on downtown Raleigh in order to give Rhett some privacy.

 

Rhett whimpered as he stood, the pressure shifting on his bladder, and his hands shook as he tugged down his zipper. His erection made it incredibly awkward to find an angle that he could relieve himself into the pitcher comfortably. He shifted from one foot to the other desperately until he managed to line things up in a way that he wouldn’t make a complete mess. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in an hour, he tried to relax. But nothing seemed to come out.

 

“What’s taking so long? You made a big show and now you don’t even have to go?” Link sneered.

 

“I… I have another problem, sir,” Rhett said as his he tucked himself back into his underwear and collapsed helplessly into the chair with his pants still undone.

 

“What now?” Link rolled his eyes as he walked up behind Rhett.

 

Rhett tried to cover his erection with the pad of paper, but Link leaned over the chair, snatched it out of his hand, and placed it back on the desk. He could see the outline of Rhett’s thick erection pulsating with need in his tight white briefs. 

 

“Oh,” Link said quietly. He leaned forward and hooked a hand around Rhett’s chin, tilting his head back until Link’s mouth was practically pressed against his ear. Link’s other hand slowly slid down Rhett’s chest. “You’d better come for me, then,” Link whispered as his hand made it’s way down to Rhett’s cock. 

 

His long fingers barely touched Rhett through his underwear but the contact was enough. Rhett’s body convulsed as he came, and his moans were closer to screams as he fell apart. Link’s hand clasped tightly over his mouth to muffle the sounds as he shot a load into his briefs, painting the inside of the fabric with his come. 

 

Link watched with bemused awe as Rhett’s body continued to twitch with aftershocks, and he slowly began to pull his hands off Rhett. He cleared his throat as he pulled a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his suit and wiped the come off his hand that had seeped through Rhett’s underwear. 

 

“Try again,” his boss commanded as he handed Rhett he pitcher one more. The relief of ejaculation had subsided, and was replaced with the urgent pain in his bladder again. He stood as he pulled his cock out of his underwear and filled the pitcher with urine. He nearly began to cry with relief as the searing pain in his bladder lessened.

 

He placed the pitcher on the desk, and with shaky hands he began zipping up his pants. 

 

“Dispose of that,” Link motioned to the pitcher as he went to work at his drafting table.

 

“Uh, where?” Rhett asked.

 

“Where do you think, Rhett? The toilet.”

 

“You want me to walk through the entire office to the washroom with a pitcher of urine?”

 

“Preciscely,” Link replied as he unrolled his blueprints and pulled out his drafting tools. Rhett got the memo, and he knew wasn’t going to be anymore discussion on the matter.

 

Rhett shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over his arm. He held the dangerously full pitcher behind it and sighed as he opened the door.

 

He figured if he walked with purpose, like he was on a mission, that no one would talk to him. He moved down the hall at a good clip, thankful for his long legs and quick stride. He managed to make it to the hallway that contained the kitchen and bathroom without meeting anyone’s gaze.  _ Just a few more meters _ , he thought to himself, when Stevie abruptly rounded the corner. “Watch it, Stevie, dammit,” Rhett yelled as she almost crashed into him.

 

“Geeze, who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” she said. He might have laughed at the irony of her quip, but between the concealed pitcher of pee in his hand, and his underwear full of come, he was in no mood. “Hey, Chase, Ellie and I are going to the diner tomorrow for lunch. I really want you to join us. It’s been weeks.”

 

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check with Mr. Neal,” he said hurriedly as he tried to dodge her and get to his destination.

 

“Rhett, seriously you need to loosen up. You’re almost wound as tight as he is these days. What is wrong? You’re a mess.”

 

“Stevie, can we talk about this later?” He pleaded.

 

“Fine,” She sounded defeated as she moved out of his path.

 

He nearly collapsed with relief when he made it to the washroom and locked the door behind him. He emptied out the pitcher and did his best to clean himself up with warm soapy water. He splashed cold water on his face and checked himself out in the mirror. He was a complete mess. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead, he had a large wet spot on the crotch of his suit pants and he looked utterly exhausted. He took a few deep breaths and remembered his boss’ touch and how his body responded to it. He fixed his hair and went to the kitchen. He washed the pitcher four times with scalding soapy water and stowed it in a very high cabinet that only he could reach, and hoped with every fibre of his being it would never be used by any of his coworkers. 

 

He fixed Mr. Neal a cup of coffee, and brought it to him, but Link didn’t even acknowledge Rhett’s presence. He was deeply focused on his work at the drafting table. He clutched the come covered handkerchief tightly in his left hand under the desk as he made measurements with his protractor and noted angles on the blueprint.


	13. Chapter 13

Like every other morning, Rhett arrived early while the office was almost entirely empty. He made his way to his desk, and had removed his coat and overshoes before noticing a small black box with a red satin ribbon on his desk. He picked up the box to examine it, and saw an envelope attached, then proceeded to open it and pull out a piece of paper. 

 

_ From the Desk of Charles Lincoln Neal _ was typed in block letters on the header, and in blue fountain pen his boss had written,  _ Since I ruined your pair yesterday, figured I’d replace with something prettier. Put them on. -C.L.N.  _  Rhett looked around nervously. He stowed the box in the pocket of his sports coat, and headed to the washroom, closing and locking the door behind him, and opened the small box with trembling hands. 

 

He removed the lid and pulled out a small pair of red, silk panties. They were cut high on the sides with a lace panel on the front. Rhett could tell they were expensive, the finest fabric. He stripped down and tried on the panties. They were a lot smaller than his normal briefs, exposing the sides of his ass, barely covering his pubic hair in the front, and stomach spilled out over the waistband. The panties could also barely contain his growing erection. His fingers slowly trailed down his body, and he palmed himself through them, moaning slightly at the feeling of the soft slippery silk on his skin.

 

He took off his shirt and tie, and leaned back on the sink, surveying his mostly naked body in the floor length mirror. He palmed himself more roughly with one hand as another trailed along his chest, twisting a nipple as his breath began to quicken, and a damp spot rose on the panties. He thought about his boss walking in on him, about what he would think of his long legs and hard cock in the sexy red lingerie.  

 

His hand reached into the panties, and pulled out his cock as he stroked himself in earnest. He thought about Mr. Neal’s blue eyes looking him up and down, about his long fingers brushing along the waistband, teasing him. “Fuck me,” he whispered to himself. He thought about dropping to his knees in the poorly lit bathroom, and how it would feel to have his boss come hard down his throat, with his fingers pulling on his hair. He thought about being bent over the sink and taken, and what it would be like to see Link’s face in the mirror as he came. “Please” he murmured as he got close. “I- I’m your secretary,” he moaned as he came on his chest. 

 

He cleaned up and got dressed, surveying his ass in the mirror. He could definitely see a line where the panties dug in, a line different from his usual y-front briefs, but he doubted anyone would notice. He went to the kitchen and fixed himself and his boss a coffee, and returned back to his desk. By the time he made it back Link was standing beside the desk waiting for him. Rhett put the coffees down, acing the desk, out towards the rest of the office, and he watched as the other secretaries began filing in for the day. Link closed the gap between them. Rhett could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck as Link’s index finger reached out and stroked the panty line from Rhett’s hip down to between his legs. He cupped his ass and whispered, “Good.” In Rhett’s ear before he picked up his coffee and returned to his office. 

 

Rhett face turned scarlet. He looked around at his colleagues, though none of them seemed to have noticed what just happened. Rhett thanked his lucky stars he had masturbated in the bathroom minutes earlier, because if he hadn’t he probably would have come right then and there.

 

He sat at his desk and turned his attention to his work. It was a constant distraction - the soft slippery fabric against his ass and crotch, and the scratchy wool suit pants on the parts of his hips and belly that were not usually so exposed.

 

A while later, Mr. Neal exited his office in a hurry. 

 

“Everything ok, Sir?” Rhett asked.

 

“No. huge fuck up with the order of steel from Brellcorp. I have to drive up to Greensboro to fix this. I probably won’t be back until tomorrow. Might have to stay the night.”

 

Rhett stood and helped his boss into his coat. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to accompany you?” He asked hopefully.

 

“No. I can handle it,” Link sighed. He turned to face Rhett and slowly did up the the buttons on his wool peacoat. “Have lunch with Stevie and the rest of them today. She’s worried about you. I forget sometimes that you need your relationship with her. Have whatever you want, on me,” He said as he pressed a few bills into Rhett’s hand.

 

“Sir I-thank you,” Rhett stammered.

 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Link said with a smirk.

 

“Yes, sir anything,”

 

Link rose on his tiptoes to meet Rhett’s ear, “Don’t you dare take those panties off until I say so.” 

 

Rhett blushed, “Of course, Sir.”

 

Link fished his car keys out of his coat pocket, winked at Rhett, and quickly walked out of the office down to his car.

 

Rhett worked away, and the morning seemed to move painfully slow without the anticipation of his boss on the other side of the wall, about to beckon him into the office at any moment. He didn’t have much work to do, so he set to organizing his desk. He filed some finished paperwork, organized his paperclips by size, rearranged his desk drawer, and put a new ribbon in his electric typewriter. 

 

A few hours went by before he looked up from his desk to see Stevie, Chase and Ellie entering the elevator to head down for lunch. He hastily grabbed his coat and scarf and tried to catch up. By the time he got to the diner they were already seated in a booth. The chatter at the table quieted as he approached. “Hey,” He said quietly. “Got room for one more?” For a moment, he wondered if they would even want him there, especially Stevie, considering he had been such an ass to her the last few weeks. Thankfully Stevie grinned up at him, moved her purse, and patted the seat beside her.

 

“I’m glad you came,” Stevie said as she squeezed his arm. 

 

“Me too. Mr. Neal has been super busy lately and needs me there with him, but I’m glad I’m able to be here,” Rhett said as he looked over the menu. After weeks of eating Link’s scraps the choices were overwhelming. A burger? Club sandwich? Meatloaf? It all looked so good, and he felt overwhelmed with the choices. 

 

“So, Neal let you off the leash for once?” Chase asked. Rhett couldn’t help but chuckle. If Chase only knew. 

 

“He had to drive up to Brellcorp to deal with an emergency supply issue,” Rhett said as he folded his menu and place his order with the waitress.

 

“Hm. Brellcorp. Probably just an excuse for some afternoon delight with Mrs. Brells,” Ellie chuckled.

 

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” Rhett replied, feeling hot under his collar. 

 

“Mr. Neal has been sticking it to Aimee Brells, Mr. Brells’ wife, for years. Right under her husband’s nose. I’m sure he jumped at the chance to go up and see her.”

 

Rhett remembered calling Aimee to set up a date with her and Link, and how she’d demanded french perfume and how she had called Mr. Neal _Linky_. Then, he remembered how his boss said he might have to stay the night in Greensboro and he felt sick.

 

“God, one time I had to sit in on a meeting with Link, Mr. Brells and his wife. I swear she had her foot in Link’s crotch the entire time while he talked about steel pricing with her husband. It was so damn awkward. I don’t know how Mr. Brell’s can run a multimillion dollar business when he can’t even tell his colleague is sticking it to his wife,” Stevie said as she took a swig of soda.

 

“Maybe he’s into it,” Chase laughed.

 

“Maybe they’re swingers, oh gosh. Maybe they both sleep with her at the same time, can you imagine?! Mr. Neal with another man?!” Ellie said struggling for breath as she giggled too hard at the thought.

 

“Ew!” Chase replied as he joined her in raucous laughter.

 

Rhett silently smoothed his napkin over his lap. Under the table his thumb traced the inside of his I.D. bracelet.  _ C.L.N,  _ and Rhett’s heart sunk as he realized that although he belonged to Link, Link did not belong to him. He had made no promises. He was free to sleep with whoever he wished - Mrs. Brells, her husband, anyone.

 

His three friends continued to laugh at the potential sexual exploits of his boss and master. Finally Stevie noticed how quiet and withdrawn he was.“Okay guys, we’ve had our fun. We shouldn’t talk about our boss like that,” She said and changed the conversation to the upcoming Christmas holidays.

 

Rhett gave her a thankful nod, and he turned his attention to the chicken pot pie the waitress had just deposited in front of him. He stayed pretty quiet the rest of lunch, and listened to his friends talk as he silently wondered what Link was up to. If he, at this very moment, had Aimee pressed up against a dark corner while he kissed her neck. He thought about how she always demanded extravagant gifts from Link. He wondered if Link had gifted her the same pair of expensive red panties and if, at this very moment, Link was on his knees, pulling the panties off her with his teeth while his long fingers traced her flat stomach.

 

Rhett checked his watch, “Sorry guys, I gotta get back,” He said as he placed a fifty dollar bill on the table, “Lunch is on me. This should cover it,” He said as he hurriedly put on his coat and walked the few blocks back to the office.

 

By the time he got back, he’d worked himself into a frenzy thinking about all the things Aimee and Link could be doing at that very moment. He wished Mr. Neal was there in his office to bring him down. He needed a smack in the face or a good spanking. Something. Some pain or humiliation to distract him and stop his thoughts from spiraling into worse scenarios.

 

He opened the door to Mr. Neal’s office and locked it behind him. Maybe if he surrounded himself in Link’s space it would help ground him better. He paced around, and began straightening things up. He filed some papers and organized Mr. Neal’s pens but it wasn’t enough. He knelt in his usual spot beside Link’s desk and buried his face in Link’s leather chair. The smell of worn leather and Mr. Neal’s cologne helped him calm down. He reminded himself that Link did not owe him anything. When he’d tried to kiss Rhett, Rhett had turned him away, used the damn safeword, effectively closing off the possibility for their relationship to be anything more than slave and master. If he was nothing more than a slave then he was going to be the best slave he could be.  

 

He went to a supply closet and found rags, brass polish, wood conditioner, and windex. He returned to the office and locked the door behind him. He stripped down to the red panties and started cleaning. He conditioned the wood furniture, paying special attention to the desk. He sprayed all the glass and windows until they gleamed. There on his knees, polishing the brass of the barcart he finally felt calm. 

 

Serving Mr. Neal, even if he wasn’t there to see it, was where Rhett wanted to be. 


	14. Chapter 14

Rhett tossed and turned all night. He was used to sleeping naked, not in lingerie, but he was ordered not to take off the red satin and lace panties so he complied with those orders. Every time he woke up, he was reminded of his boss, how his presence was twisted around his body. His thoughts turned once again to Mr. Neal and what he was doing in Greensboro - if Aimee had snuck into his room, and if, at that very moment, her candy apple lips were wrapped around his cock. Rhett sighed, punched his pillow and fought to get back to sleep.

 

His alarm sounded as he got out of bed, rising to his feet. He had managed to doze off at some point but it hadn’t done him much good, and he felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. He did his best to freshen himself up with cologne and practically crawled into his car.

 

When he got to work, Mr. Neal still hadn’t arrived. Rhett drank several cups of coffee and finally reached a state of exhausted caffeination where he was able to respond to some mail and get some filing done. The lunch hour passed, and without orders of what or where to eat, he decided to forgo lunch for more coffee. Even if he had his pick of meals he was to emotionally and physically exhausted to even think about food.

 

At the end of the day, after the rest of the employees had filtered out, Mr. Neal entered the office. He looked just as exhausted as Rhett as he dropped his briefcase at the door, and collapsed on the couch while Rhett brought him a cup of coffee.

 

“Everything get taken care of?” Rhett questioned as he placed the full mug on the coffee table.

 

Link removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “Yes, eventually. What a colossal fuck up. We were up half the night going over invoices, but we finally found the mistake.”

 

“That’s good,” Rhett replied as he stroked his beard. “How was Mrs. Brells?” He asked pointedly.

 

“Do you know Aimee?” Link asked, as he put his glasses back on his face. “Oh yes, I guess you spoke with her once. She’s as fine as ever,” He replied with a small smirk.

 

“Hrmm,” Rhett replied.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Link snapped as he took a sip of his coffee.

 

“Nothing,” Rhett replied.

 

“No, Rhett,” Link said as he stood and headed toward the direction of Rhett, “What does that mean?”

 

“I figured you would fuck her. Guess I was right.”

 

Link’s face fell, his eyes stormy. “Excuse me?” He questioned, getting in Rhett’s face.

 

“I said, I figured you’d _fuck_ her,” Rhett said, not backing down.

 

“Since when is that any concern of yours?” Link asked.

 

“I thought… nevermind.” Rhett said as he turned to leave the office.

 

“You get back here right now. Get down on your knees where you belong.”

 

“No,” Rhett growled in his face.

 

Link grabbed Rhett by the shoulders and pushed him down on his knees.

 

“This is what you want, I know it is.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

“If it’s not, then say Belevedere.”

 

Rhett’s mouth closed in a tight firm line.

 

“That’s right. You want this. You always want this. Because even though you’re mad, even though you think I owe you something, you’re still happiest when you’re beneath me,” Link said as he paced back and forth around him. “How _dare_ you. After everything-” Link shook with anger as he continued to chastise the man below him. “Take your clothes off.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re all worked up. I’m gone for a day and suddenly you think you can speak to me in that manner. Maybe if I take your clothes you’ll understand your position. Strip.”

 

“No.”

 

“You do not say no to me. You do it, or you use your word. Those are your only two options,” Link said as he locked eyes with Rhett.

 

Rhett hesitated a moment before he began to remove his clothes, slowly shrugging off his jacket, then loosening his tie and removing it along with his shirt. Lastly, he undid his pants and let them pool around his knees.

 

Link eyed the red panties, “At least you follow directions, and damn if you don’t look pretty,” He drawled eyeing Rhett’s body in the sexy lingerie. “Stand up, take them off.”

 

Rhett stood, hands shaking as they made their way to the waistband of panties. He slowly tugged them down, quickly falling to the floor as he concealed his crotch with his large hands.

 

“Bend over the desk,” Link instructed as he picked the panties off the floor. He rolled them up into a neat rectangle. “Open,” He commanded. But Rhett refused to be compliant, instead clamping his mouth shut. “I said, open,” Link repeated as he shoved his thumb into Rhett’s mouth to make his jaw more slack. He pried Rhett’s lips open and crammed the panties in, and Rhett could taste his own sweat and body scent as his drool moisted the fine satin.

 

“Is this what you need?” Link whispered in his ear.

 

Tears formed in his eyes as he nodded. Maybe he couldn’t give Mr. Neal what Aimee did, but he could give him this. All of himself. His submission. He watched Link slowly circle the desk, and could feel his boss’ eyes taking in his long, slim body. Link positioned himself behind Rhett, and suddenly heard the sound of Link undoing the metal buckle on his belt.

  
“Hmmrnmm,” Rhett yelled through his gag.

 

“Don’t worry Rhett,” Link whispered, leaning over as he planted his hands on the sides of the desk. “I’m not going to _fuck_ you.”

 

Rhett’s eyes closed and he exhaled sharply through his nose. His pinky fingers curled around Link’s index fingers, searching for anything to ground him, but his boss pulled away, and stood up.

Link pulled his brown leather belt out of the loops and folded in in half, snapping the leather against the desk, and cracking it besides Rhett’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Link swung the belt and cracked Rhett’s ass hard causing Rhett to scream through his gag. He clenched his cheeks and tried to evade the next strike. “Stop squirming,” Link said as he steadied Rhett’s hips with his hands. Rhett took a deep breath and held still while his boss whipped him again with the belt, letting out a high pitched whimper each time. The strikes got faster and harder and the tears began to roll down Rhett’s cheeks as the beautiful agony washed over him. He closed his eyes and slipped beneath the crashing waves of pain.

 

Link raised the belt overhead and smacked Rhett hard, the buckle catching him on his already red hip. The pain was electric and Rhett spat out the panties and screamed.

 

Link gently inspected the buckle shaped welt forming on Rhett’s ass. “I’m sorry I-”

 

The door flew open and Stevie ran in, “Is everything-o-oh God!” She exclaimed as she ran out of the room as quickly as she entered.

 

Rhett and Link stared at each other for a second, both stunned.

 

“I forgot to lock the door,” Link said as he turned pale and collapsed in his chair.

 

“I’ll fix this,” Rhett said as he hastily pulled on his clothes, wincing as he pulled his pants over his sore, red ass. “Meet me at my apartment in an hour,” he said as he scribbled his address on a piece of paper on the desk and took off to find Stevie.

 

Rhett found Stevie in her office, pacing around her desk. She stopped to light a cigarette and took a long drag off the slim stick.

 

“Stevie,” Rhett said breathlessly, “I can explain.”

 

“I don’t want to know. I didn’t see anything. I mean I saw something, but I don’t even know what the hell I saw. I know he’s demanding, but corporal punishment? Jesus, what did you do? Make a spelling mistake? That’s not okay, Rhett. He’s not allowed to treat you this way,” She said, taking a seat at her desk.

 

“I’ll spare you the details, but it’s not what it looks like. I know it looks bad but we’re… I don’t even know what we’re doing. I… I’m so sorry, Stevie.”

 

“I won’t say anything but-” She shook her head.

 

Rhett sat down on the other side of the desk, winced as his backside met the chair. “No Stevie, you’ve got it all wrong. I want this. I-I enjoy it. I’d expect you to understand more than anyone here.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Well, because you’re gay too, right?”

 

Stevie sighed, “I try to keep it quiet but, yes I’m a lesbian, Rhett. But my girlfriend doesn’t beat me up at night.”

 

“I know it seems strange, but I need this. And so does he.”

 

“Well,” She said at she butt her cigarette out in the amber glass ashtray, “He has been easier to work with. I’ll give you that. But you have to be more careful. Imagine if it had been one of the partners who’d walked in on that?”

 

“I know.”

 

“Is your relationship with Neal why you’ve been so weird lately?”

 

“I suppose, yes. To be honest I’m relieved you know now. I mean, I wish you hadn’t found out this way-” Rhett reached over the desk and took Stevie’s hand. “-but I’m glad you know.”

 

He gave her hand a squeeze and she squeezed back. “I’m glad too. You can talk to me anytime, okay? I won’t tell anyone. He better be good to you. You’re a good guy Rhett, I don’t want to see you heartbroken.”

 

“He’s good to me, Stevie. As good as he can be.”

 

Stevie stood up and grabbed her sweater. “Okay. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home and drink a bottle of vodka to erase what I saw in Neal’s office from my memory.”

 

Rhett stood and pulled Stevie into a tight hug, “Thank you for looking out for me.” He said, gratefully.

 

“Anytime.”

  


Rhett checked the clock every few minutes as he straightened up his apartment, wondering if Mr. Neal would even show up. Thankfully right on time, there was a knock at his door.

 

Rhett opened it and smiled, “I’m so glad you came,” He said, motioning for Link to enter as he closed the door behind him. Rhett’s apartment wasn’t exactly in the best part of town. Not the worst, but a few blocks away from the worst. At first glance it looked like a college student lived there - cinderblock and wood bookshelves, posters of rock bands on the wall, and although it was a bit cluttered, it was clean, organized and homey.

 

In one corner there was a round wicker red papasan chair, next to a stereo system, and stacked milk crates full of LP records. Along another wall was a shelf groaning under the weight of too many books. A gold floral print sofa, sat along another wall with bright throw pillows on it, and a crochet brown, orange and yellow blanket. In the corner stood a well loved acoustic guitar.  A small wooden drop leaf table with two chair rounded out the living area. It was small, but it said so much about Rhett - that he was well read, not fussy or pretentious, and that he had a deep love of music.

 

Rhett wore brown corduroy bell bottoms and a red and white ringer t-shirt that was probably a few sizes too small, as it made his stomach poke out above his waist band. “If you want to continue with the belt, that’s fine. But, I have some other options,” Rhett said, leading Link to the living room area of the apartment where he had laid out a paddle, riding crop, and cat o’nine tails on the coffee table.   


Link’s slim fingers grazed over the options Rhett had laid out, settling on the cat o’nine tails. “So,” Rhett paused. “How do you want me?”

 

They’d been in this situation before, but somehow the intimacy of not being in the office, of being in Rhett’s home instead, made things more real. In the office, Link had him strip naked, but here that seemed like too much.

 

“Shirt off, on your knees. Here,” Link demanded, pointing to the sofa with the handle of the whip.

 

Rhett removed his much too small shirt and dropped to his knees, his arms resting on the couch. Link pulled the red panties out of his pocket and gagged Rhett with them again.

 

Link raised the whip over his head and swatted Rhett’s back, making a satisfying crack as it met Rhett’s skin. He swung again and Rhett jolted at the sting of the whip. Each stroke of the whip pulled groans out of Rhett and raised welts on his skin until his back was criss crossed with red, puffy streaks. Link reeled back once more and the whip hit hard. Rhett screamed as the whip tore open his flesh, blood beginning to drip from a long, shallow diagonal gash on Rhett’s back. “Oh gosh,” Link said softly. Rhett turned around to see the colour draining from Link’s face. He jumped up just in time to catch Link as he fainted into his arms.

 

Link woke up shortly after, disoriented as he layed in the papasan chair beside Rhett. Rhett gently stroked his cheek, “Hey,” He said softly, his face painted with worry. “Are you okay, sir?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not good with blood. Are you alright?.”

 

“I’m fine, it wasn’t deep. It’s already pretty much stopped bleeding. I’ve had way worse.” Rhett thigh pushed into Link’s reassuringly. “You sure you’re okay? I was really worried.”

 

“I’m fine. I should probably go…”

 

“No, you fainted. I’m not letting you leave until you eat something. Just stay here, okay? I’ll put on a record and make dinner.”

 

“Okay,” Link replied weakly.

 

Rhett smiled and put an LP on the turntable. The chugging guitars and drums started up, and a sultry man’s voice began singing. _You can bump and grind, have a good time. You can twist and shout, let it all hang out. But you won’t fool the children of the revolution_. Link let the music wash over and he watched Rhett’s hips roll in time with the music as he worked in the kitchen.

 

Rhett looked over at his boss who snored lightly as he dozed in the chair. He gently removed his glasses and pulled the crochet blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around Link.

 

The needle on the record player automatically lifted and returned to its cradle at the end of the B-side. Dinner was ready and Rhett gently woke up his boss. “Soup’s on, sir,” Rhett said, helping him up with a steady hand. Link wobbled a bit, still light headed from fainting, but quickly found his feet and made his way to the table.

 

Rhett set it with a red and white checked tablecloth, a candle in an old chianti bottle dripped with wax of previous candles. They each had a hearty serving of spaghetti and meat sauce, and a loaf of Italian bread sat in a wicker basket, wrapped in a linen towel. Link inhaled the smell of basil and tomatoes, and sighed with pleasure. Rhett tore into a piece of bread enthusiastically.

 

“Rhett, this is delicious,” Link said with a mouthful of pasta.

 

“Thank you Sir! I’m not an amazing cook, I can only make a few things, but the things I can do I do pretty well.”

 

“I see we have the same Alma Mater,” Link said motioning to a NC State pennant that hung on Rhett’s wall.

 

“Go Wolfpack,” Rhett replied with a grin.

“Why didn’t you finish your engineering degree? You are talented.”

 

“In my senior year, my dad got sick and I had to go home to Buies Creek to take care of him and help on the tobacco farm. Then he passed away, and I had to help my mom take care of the farm. Now, we have some hired help, but I end up spending most of my salary back to pay them.  I only have three credits left for my degree but at this point, I doubt I’ll ever go back. It’s ok though. I have a good life. I like my job. Things worked out okay.”

 

“Can I ask you another question?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why do you like pain?”

 

Rhett put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s complicated. You know how when you are hitting me you feel in charge and powerful and strong and all the little voices in your head that fill you with doubt and anxiety go away for that time?” Link nodded. “Well, it’s like for that time I can focus on the physical pain and not deal with the mental stuff. And then, when it’s done, it makes me feel strong because I’ve endured something. I get a huge endorphin rush. Sometimes I’ve almost dissociated, like entering another plane of existence.  It’s hard to explain but it’s so calm and tranquil. There’s nothing bad there. There’s nothing at all. It’s just a calm void. It’s just nice to escape my own head sometimes.”

 

“I think I understand. When I’m hurting you, part of me feels really bad. Because, I don’t want to hurt you. I mean, I care about you. But I feel so good when I do it. It almost scares me sometimes. Do… you ever think this could be more than it is?”

 

Rhett’s mouth went dry. He wanted to scream yes, a million times yes, but instead all his body would do was let him nod and let out a quiet word, “Yeah.”

 

“It could never work though. This isn’t something we could do twenty four hours a day. It would just be cruel,” Link said quietly.

 

“Why not?” Rhett whispered boldly, his green eyes flickering with gold as he met Link’s gaze.

 

Link cleared his throat and changed the subject.“Thank you for dinner. I’m sorry about earlier.”

 

“It’s fine. I should have warned you about the the whip, it’s pretty vicious. I’m sorry about earlier at the office. I shouldn’t have said anything about Mrs. Brells. It’s none of my business what you do with her.”

 

Link’s face fell and he pushed his chair away from the table. “I should go,” He said as he made his way to the front hall to retrieve his coat.

 

“No, please stay,” Rhett pleaded.

 

“You still don’t get it Rhett,” Link sighed as he put on his coat.

 

“Then explain it to me,” Rhett said frantically.

 

“I wasn’t mad because you pried into my relationship with Aimee. I was mad that you even had an inkling that I would sleep with her. That you don’t realize that you’re the only one I want.”

 

Rhett stood in the hallway dumbfounded as Link left his apartment and closed the door behind him.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Rhett arrived at work floating on a cloud. His boss admitting his feelings threw him for a loop, but he spent the whole weekend with a grin on his face, and despite not really knowing where things stood, he still couldn’t wait to see him. 

 

He whistled as he made Link’s coffee and proudly walked into Link’s office.

 

“Good morning sir,” he said, his voice low and seductive. 

 

“Good morning Rhett,” Link said, “we need to talk.”

 

“I… alright. Should I lock the door?”

 

“No, leave it open,” Link said sullenly.

 

Rhett’s heart sank as Link motioned for him to sit on the sofa beside him. 

 

“We have to stop this,” Link said quietly.

 

“What? No… why?” Rhett’s heart was racing.

 

“Not forever. I have someone coming in over the Christmas break to install a deadbolt and some sound proofing. But, in the meantime we can’t risk getting caught again. Thank God it was Stevie and not someone else. I should have been more careful. For both of our sakes.”

 

Rhett nodded, “I don’t know if I’ll last a week.”

 

Link gently placed a hand on Rhett’s knee. “I know. Me too. If it makes it any easier I won’t be around much. I scheduled a bunch of meetings out of the office. In the meantime, you have lots of stuff to do for year end. Eat lunch with your friends. It’ll be okay.”

 

“Maybe after work we could-” Rhett started but was interrupted by the click of a cigarette lighter.

 

“Got a minute, Neal?” Lizzie asked from the doorway as she took a drag of her smoke.

 

Link slowly pulled his hand off Rhett’s knee to avoid detection. “Yes, Lizzie, come on in. Back to your desk Rhett.”

 

Rhett nodded and returned to his desk. He felt numb. His boss was right. They couldn’t continue on like this without some sort of measures in place to keep things private, but he didn’t want to be at his desk. He wanted to be on his knees, serving his boss.

 

The next day, Link called Rhett into his office mid-morning. “I have a task for you; sit,” he said, motioning to his leather desk chair.

 

“At… at your desk?” Rhett asked.

 

“Yes,” Link replied pulling out the chair for him.

 

Rhett felt awkward sitting in his boss’ chair, like it was above his position.

 

“I have a test for you. There are four parts. You will get twenty minutes for each part. Do you understand?”

 

“I...what? Why?”

 

“Because I want you to,” Link said, his hand on Rhett’s shoulder.

 

Rhett sighed and nodded. 

 

Link pulled out a stopwatch. “Three, two, one, go.” Link said and Rhett flipped over the page that was face down in front of him.

 

Part one was all calculus questions. It had been years since Rhett had been in school, and he felt foggy and out of practice. It made matters worse that his boss was sitting across the desk from him with a stopwatch ticking like a time bomb.

 

Rhett was paralyzed.

 

“You can do this,” Link said.

 

Rhett picked up the pencil and began. The first few questions were tricky, but eventually he got into a groove and breezed through. 

 

“Done,” he said as he put down the pencil with twenty seconds to spare.

 

“Very good, Rhett,” Link grinned. “Ok, part two.” He pulled out a protractor, compass, and a new set of worksheets. “Three, two, one, go!”

 

This one was all geometry. Again, Rhett stumbled at first but eventually found his way. He had no idea what this was all about. Maybe Link was just getting more creative with his torture methods. Maybe the M in BDSM stood for mathematics. He chuckled to himself at the thought. 

 

Part three was algebra. His head spun with equations. 

 

For part four, he was given a blueprint and had to answer several question relating to it.

 

“Alright, all done, back to your desk,” Link said as he stacked the answer sheets and slid them into a manila envelope.

 

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Rhett asked as he stood and stretched his back, stiff from sitting so long.

 

“In due time,” Link said with a small grin. “I’ll be out of the office for most of the next few days, but I’ll be back for the Christmas party on Friday. Not that I want to attend.; it’s always a shitshow. But as partner, I’m expected to put in some facetime. I trust you will be there?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Rhett replied.

 

“Good,” Link replied as he carefully put the envelope into his briefcase.

 

Rhett spent the next few days bored to tears at his desk. He’d completed all his work for the week in a few hours. It was amazing how much he could get done when he wasn’t being called away from his work to be spanked, how quickly he did his filing when it wasn’t on his hand and knees. He missed Link’s presence, missed the anticipation of his intercom buzzing. 

 

The Christmas party at Benson, McLasky & Neal was always something to witness. A combination of too much alcohol, not enough food, and pent up stress from a long year of work usually resulted in everyone getting too drunk, secretaries finding themselves in far-off supply closets with their bosses, and McLasky passed out cold on a desk. Thankfully, all employees were given two weeks off around Christmas and New Years, so by the time they returned in January, most of the nights’ transgressions would be long forgotten. 

 

Everyone had left work early, gone home to change, and returned, and now the party was in full swing. Rhett wore an olive green suit with a burgundy tie. He was a bit overdressed for the party, but he knew he looked good and that Link would agree. Someone had brought in a turntable and Elton John’s new Christmas single, “Step Into Christmas”, was being played on a loop as employees poured cocktails and toasted the end of another year. When Rhett arrived, Link was hiding in his office. As a partner he was required to attend, but he prefered to stay out of the hustle and bustle of the party outside. 

 

The door was open, and Rhett entered Link’s office a long, slim, white box with gold ribbons tucked behind his back. “Merry Christmas, sir,” Rhett said as he placed the box on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.

 

Link was standing at the bar cart; he preferred his premium liquor to the bar rail spirits that stocked the party bar. “Merry Christmas, Rhett,” he replied. “Can I fix you a drink?”

 

“Sure, I’ll have what you’re having.”

 

Link handed him a scotch and sat beside him on the sofa.

 

“Knock, knock. Is it safe for me to come in?” Stevie asked, her hands dramatically covered her face.

 

“Come in, Stevie,” Link rolled his eyes as he fixed her a scotch.

 

Link sat beside Rhett on the sofa while Stevie took a chair beside them.

 

“You boys all ready for the holidays?” she asked as she took a swig of her drink.

 

“You know me, Stevie; I’ll be here over the holidays, working. What about you, Rhett?”

 

“I’m going home to Buies Creek. First Christmas home in a few years. My brother is not so happy to have me around since I came out. He’s a pastor and thinks I’ll be a bad influence on his children, but his family is on a mission trip, so it’ll just be me, mamma, and some of the farm hands.”

 

“You’re out to your mom?” Stevie asked.

 

“Yeah, after my dad died, I told her. She took it pretty well considering how involved in the church she is. She’s a good woman. Are you out to your family, Stevie?”

 

“No,” she sighed. “Everytime I go to tell them, I chicken out. They think Cassie is my roommate. I mean, we have a one bedroom apartment, I don’t know how they could possibly think that works, but… anyway, I will. Maybe not over the Hanukkah table, but...eventually.”

 

“I’m here for you, when you do,” Rhett said. He loved Stevie like a little sister and only wanted the best for her. 

Stevie eyed the gift on the coffee table and met Rhett’s gaze. Rhett nodded and Stevie understood. “Alright, I just wanted to drop in before you sneak off like you do every year, Neal. Happy holidays,” she grinned. Rhett stood and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Happy holidays, Stevie,” Link said as he gave her a pat on the shoulder, which was the most warmth she’d ever experienced from him.

 

“I’ll give you boys some privacy,” she said with a wink as she closed the door behind her.

 

“So,” Link said, motioning to the gift on the table. “What’s this, then?”

 

“It’s silly, but I got you something, you know, for Christmas,” Rhett said stumbling awkwardly over his words as he extended the slim package out to Link. He wondered if he’d horribly misread things and if this was a mistake.

 

“Rhett, that’s so thoughtful,” Link said beaming as he took the package. He carefully pulled the tail of the gold ribbon until it loosened and pooled around the box. He opened the lid and pulled back gold tissue paper to find a beautiful brown leather riding crop. The tip was a wide, flat piece of cognac leather with a tapered shaft wrapped in cream and brown caning up to a leather wrapped handle with a brass button and leather wrist strap. 

 

“It’s beautiful, Rhett,” Link said warmly as his fingers traced up and down the body and he gently slapped the crop on his hand. 

 

“I promise, it packs a wallop, but no blood.”

 

“Hmm. I look forward to using it,” Link grinned. “I have something for you, too,” he pulled an envelope out of his briefcase. “I’m sorry I didn’t wrap it,” he said as he placed it in Rhett’s hands.

 

Rhett gently opened the envelope and slid out two pieces of paper. He unfolded the larger one.

 

_ Dear Mr. McLaughlin, _

 

_ North Carolina State University is pleased to offer you acceptance to our engineering program. You are enrolled in our spring semester, which commences January 20th, 1975. Please come to the Engineering Building on campus at your earliest convenience to enroll in classes. We look forward to having you study with us.  _

 

_ Think and Do, _

 

_ Edward Coleman, Dean of Engineering _

 

“I… I don’t understand,” Rhett said, dumbfounded.

 

“I was in the same fraternity as Eddie Colman. I convinced him to let me proctor your entrance exam. That was the test I had you take the other day. You’re talented, Rhett. All this stuff comes naturally to you. I had to spend every moment of my university career studying, and had to work even harder when I started here. I had to put in hundred-hour weeks just to keep up. It cost me everything. But now, I can give back. I can mentor you. You can take classes at night. You can even do your work at your desk, as long as you’re discrete. You’ll be done your degree in a year, then I’ll hire you on here. I expect in five years you’ll be a junior partner.”

 

“I… thank you so much. It means a lot to me. But I can’t afford it. The farm had its worst year ever and-”

 

Link picked up the other piece of paper that had fallen into Rhett’s lap and handed it to him. “That’s what this is for.”

 

The paper was a cheque made out from Charles Lincoln Neal III to Rhett McLaughlin for the sum of five thousand dollars.

 

“No… sir, this is more than a year’s salary. I can’t take this,” Rhett was flustered and overwhelmed.

“Rhett, I want you to have this. It will cover your degree, books and then some,” Link took his hand. “I know you will give most of it to your mom, but buy one thing for yourself. A new guitar, a new stereo system, whatever you want. I care about you and-”

  
  


Before Link could finish Rhett lunged himself forward, and his lips crashed into Link’s. Link mumbled the rest of his sentence into Rhett’s mouth before it hit him what was happening. When he caught up Rhett could feel Link smile as he reciprocated the kiss. Rhett loved the way he tasted. Like scotch and pine and musk. Link’s mouth was so big Rhett felt like he might swallow him whole, not that he would have minded. Link lay back on the sofa, pulling Rhett down with him. One hand twined in Rhett’s golden hair, the other traveled down his back and grabbed at his ass. The months of restraint, and questioning were over. The dam had been broken and they were both ready to drown in the flood. Rhett’s hips ground down on Link’s, desperate for more contact, and Link bucked his hips up in reciprocation. Rhett whimpered and kissed down Link’s neck. His tongue traced down the tendons, and he licked the man’s protruding Adam’s apple. Link’s long fingers loosened Rhett’s tie and began to unbutton his shirt, but Rhett gently moved his hands and pulled away. Link’s eyes were almost black, his pupils blown out with lust, his lips puffy from kissing.

 

“Wanna get out of here?” Rhett practically purred.

 

Link grinned a toothy grin. “My place?” he asked.

 

Rhett nodded enthusiastically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, right?! thanks to @a-wild-potato for her grammar skillz.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to annabelle_leigh (usefulmammal on tumblr) for beta reading.

Rhett and Link snuck out of the office Christmas party. Most of their coworkers were too drunk to notice them slip into the elevator together. The second the doors closed Link grabbed Rhett by the collar and pulled him down for another rough kiss which lasted the fourteen floor descent to the ground level. They pulled apart just as the doors opened to the office tower lobby.

 

Link opened the passenger side door of his Datsun for Rhett, who curled his long frame up to fit in the tiny sports car. “Sorry,” Link chuckled at Rhett whose knees were practically at his ears. Thankfully the drive to Link’s apartment wasn’t very long. The pair waited for the elevator; they could practically feel the electricity bouncing between them. One of Link’s neighbours, a little old lady, got on the elevator with them and they glanced lustfully at each other over her five-foot tall head, while she prattled on about what she got her grandchildren for Christmas. They finally made it to the tenth floor, and into Link’s penthouse apartment.

 

Link fumbled for his keys; his hands shook with anticipation as he turned the lock and opened the door to his apartment. The door closed behind them and they were on each other again. “Bedroom?” Link asked as he undid Rhett’s tie and kissed his neck.

 

“Uh-huh,” Rhett replied as he pulled off Link’s jacket, and the pair stumbled towards the bedroom. 

 

Link pushed Rhett down by his shoulders and Rhett dropped to his knees, his hands making quick work of Link’s charcoal grey suit pants. He inhaled sharply as he pulled down Link’s underwear to reveal his impressively large, hard dick. Link’s hands twined in Rhett’s golden hair as he took Link into his mouth. Link whimpered at how good it felt. How warm and inviting his mouth was, how he eagerly took him deeper and deeper, his throat constricting around Link’s cock. Link’s grip on Rhett’s hair tightened as he thrust harder and harder into his mouth. Rhett gagged but pushed for more. Harder. Deeper. Faster. Rhett’s eyelashes were painted with tears, his beard soaked with spit but he aimed to please.

 

Link pulled out of Rhett’s mouth and lifted Rhett up. He pushed him against the rough exposed brick wall of his bedroom and kissed him again, tasting himself on Rhett’s tongue. “I want you,” he whispered hotly in Rhett’s ear. 

 

“You’ve always had me,” Rhett replied, kissing him hungrily again. “You got anything? Lube?” Rhett asked, kissing Link’s neck.

 

“Shit,” Link replied, running to the bathroom. Rhett stripped off his clothes as he heard Link rummaging frantically in the ensuite. He lay down on the bed and slowly stroked his cock, which was already dripping with precome, while he waited. Link finally returned with a tub of vaseline, “will this do? I never… woah.” 

 

“What?” Rhett said with a grin as he watched Link’s eyes take in his long, slim body and impressive cock. 

 

“You’ve never been with a man?” Rhett asked as Link removed his shirt and tie.

 

“Yeah,” Link replied as he joined Rhett on the bed, kissing him again. 

 

“It’s okay,” Rhett said pulling Link in for another kiss. The urgency for contact had diminished a little and they were able to take their time. To kiss every inch, to let fingers trail over collar bones and get tangled in body hair. After some time Rhett got on his hands knees and opened the vaseline. He dipped his index finger in and reached behind him, slowly circling his hole and gently pushing in. He went in with more vaseline and another finger. He arched his back and moaned as his boss watched him finger himself. Link stroked his cock at the show Rhett was putting on for him. 

 

“Fuck me, sir, please,” Rhett whimpered.

 

Link slathered vaseline on his cock and got behind Rhett, lining it up with his wanting asshole. Link pushed in hard and immediately felt Rhett tighten around him. It was unbelievably tight. He tried to thrust but couldn’t. “Breathe,” he whispered in Rhett’s ear. Rhett hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly and his entire body relaxed. Link grabbed his hips and thrust gently into him. Both men groaned loudly. Link picked up speed, and bottomed out into Rhett, grabbing a fist full of hair as he slammed into him. “God you feel so good,” Link moaned as his hips bucked into Rhett. 

 

Rhett began to stroke his cock in time with Link's thrusts. His cock was so hard and heavy in his hand as he stroked his length up and down. Rhett’s legs began to shake as he came, his asshole spasming around Link which tipped him over the edge as well. The two men groaned in unison as they both collapsed on the bed. 

 

“Fuck, Rhett,” Link said breathlessly as he tried to come down. 

 

Rhett chuckled as he kissed him again, “you like fucking me, sir?” he asked.

 

“Absolutely,” Link replied, wrapping his arms around Rhett. 

 

Link reached into his dresser drawer and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. He drew one out of the package with his plump lips and handed the box to Rhett who did the same. 

 

“Since when do you smoke, sir?” he said as he took the red Bic lighter from Link's hand. 

 

“Only post coital,” he said with a wink. He lay back down on the bed, one arm raised and stuck behind his head. Rhett rested his head on Link's chest. The pair smoked in silence, the smoke curled around them as they ashed their cigarettes on an ashtray which delicately rested on Link's belly. 

 

They both butted out their cigarettes, Link put the ashtray on the bedside table and turned out the light. He sunk down and wrapped his arm around Rhett, who nuzzled into his chest. Within a few minutes they were fast asleep. 

 

Rhett woke up in his boss’ arms. He smiled at how peaceful Link looked. He snored lightly with his mouth slightly open. Rhett tore himself away and found his way to the kitchen. He opened a few cupboards until he located the coffee and mugs. He put on a pot and wandered naked around his boss’ apartment. 

 

Link’s apartment was modern. All warm teak wood and leather. Everything was clean and organized with precision. Rhett located the record player and Link's LPs. They were almost all country records, old and new, including some of Rhett’s favourites like Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard and The Byrds. Rhett smirked as he thought about introducing his boss turned lover to Bowie, T-Rex, and The Stooges. 

 

The coffee pot sputtered and Rhett returned to the kitchen and fixed Link’s coffee just the way he liked it, black two sugars, and his own, just cream, and carried them into the bedroom.

 

“Oh, you’re still here,” Link said as he came out of the bathroom and sat on the bed.

 

“Did...did you want me to leave?” Rhett asked quietly.

 

“No,” Link replied as he sat on the bed and took the coffee from Rhett. “Just thought maybe you’d come to your senses.”

 

“Why would I leave?” Rhett said as he sat beside Link on the bed.

 

“Because everyone leaves me,” Link replied as he took a swig of his coffee.

 

“What do you mean?” Rhett said as he snuggled into Link’s shoulder.

 

Link let out a long sigh. “I grew up broke, just me and my mom who raised me all on her own. I managed to get a scholarship to university, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to afford it. I worked my ass off in college, graduated top of my class, and got hired at Benson and McLasky. Then I met Christy. I fell for her, hard, and proposed. I wanted to be the type of husband she deserved, build a real life for us, so I worked a hundred hours a week, I practically lived at the office. I did it all for her. But she left me a month before the wedding. Said I loved the job more than her.”

 

“Hey,” Rhett said softly, turning Link’s face to his. “I’ll never leave you.”

 

“But Rhett, really think about this. It’s one thing eight hours a day at the office with you on your knees, indulging my every whim, but you really want this? All day? Every day?” Link put his mug down on the nightstand.

 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” Rhett replied as he kissed Link. Rhett straddled Link’s lap, kissing him harder. “I want you to mark every inch of my flesh as yours,” he said as he peppered Link’s chest with kisses. “I want to take all of your pain and anxiety and frustration and absorb it so you can be the amazing man I know you are.”

 

Link whimpered as Rhett began to jerk him off. 

 

“I want to suck your cock while you’re on a conference call with that asshole Feldman. I want it to be so wet and hot he can hear it over the line and know what a good boy I am for you.”

 

Link reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the tub of vaseline. He greased up his index finger and tentatively circled Rhett’s asshole, letting his finger slip inside as the tight ring of muscle stretched around it.

 

Rhett took his own cock into his hands along with Link’s jerking them both in tandem. He pressed his sweaty forehead against Link’s as Link worked him open.

 

“When the weather is nice I want to drive out to the country,” Rhett said as he jerked them both off faster, their precome mixing together and slicking his hand. “I want you to cut a switch, tie me to a tree, and beat me raw. Then fuck me so I scream until I’m hoarse,” Rhett growled in Link’s ear as he took another of  Link’s long fingers inside him. “Then I want to go into town to some little diner, eat breakfast, and then go to a flea market and walk hand in hand looking at ugly brick-a-brack and tsotchkes.” 

 

Link added more lube and slid a third finger in Rhett’s ass. His cock twitched at how tight Rhett was around him and how Rhett was fucking himself on his fingers, completely falling apart in front of him. 

 

“I want it all. I want bruises that feel like kisses, and kisses so hard they bruise. I want to serve you, to do anything and everything to please you. I want to earn your love.”

 

In one quick motion Link slid his fingers out of Rhett and threw him off of his lap onto his back. In a flash Link managed to get on top of him. He pinned his arms above his head with one hand while he positioned his cock with the other. Rhett pulled his knees up to give his boss better access. He loved the feeling of being folded in half as Link pushed into him. 

 

Link fucked into him hard. Rhett was already so close. Just saying his filthy desires outloud was enough to nearly make him come. But now, pinned down and ravaged by his master he moaned loudly. 

 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Link asked 

 

“Yes, sir,” Rhett moaned.

 

“Are you my whore?” Link asked as he fucked him at a punishing pace.

 

“Fuck, yes, sir.”

 

Link leant forward, putting extra pressure on Rhett's wrists as he fucked him. He gripped them with bruising force and Rhett’s eyes rolled back with pleasure. Link let the saliva pool in his mouth for a moment, then spat in his face, the hot wetness landed on Rhett’s cheek. The moment it hit Rhett came hard, spilling all over his belly with a low deep moan. 

 

Rhett twitched with every thrust as Link fucked him. Link unpinned his hands and began to jerk off Rhett’s already spent cock. Link’s hand was slick with Rhett’s come and his hand slid fast and tight over Rhett’s softening cock. It was over sensitive and every stroke was an agonizing mix of pleasure and pain. Rhett whined, “please sir, fuck-unghh” but Link ignored his pleas. He came so hard he collapsed onto Rhett’s chest.

 

Both men lay there breathlessly panting, sweaty and spent. Link was still half inside Rhett but neither could move. Rhett wrapped his arms around Link and kissed his forehead.

 

Link began to chuckle, which quickly turned into a full blown belly laugh.

 

“What?” Rhett said with a grin.

 

“I knew I was screwed the day you walked into my office,” Rhett could feel Link’s lips smile as he kissed his chest.

 

They lay there a while and dozed in the afterglow. Eventually Link looked up at him, “when do you leave to go to Buies Creek?”

 

“I’d better head out soon,” Rhett replied sadly. “I have to go home and pack. I said I’d be there for dinner.”

 

“Do you really have to go?” Link asked kissing him.

 

“I could stay if you wanted me to…”

 

“Of course I want you to stay but, no, you should go. See your mom, check on the farm. It’s just a few days.”

 

“I’ll be thinking about you the entire time I’m gone,” Rhett said with a grin.

 

“Me too,” Link said as he swung his legs out of the bed. “Shower?”

 

“Shower.”

 

The pair lazily stumbled to Link’s large shower. Rhett shampooed Link’s hair and practically had him purring with the light nail scratches on his scalp. They passed the soap back and forth, trading it for kisses and fingers trailed through wet chest hair.

 

Rhett toweled off beside Link in the large white marble bathroom, “can I use your phone? I need to call a taxi to take me to the office. I left my car there last night.”

 

“Rhett, for heaven’s sakes I’ll drive you. What good am I if I can’t take you to get your car?”

 

“I knew you’d come in handy one day,” Rhett grinned.

 

“Hrmmm remind me to punish you for that when you get back.”

 

“Promise?” Rhett said, pushing Link’s shaggy hair out of his baby blue eyes.

 

“Promise,” Link replied, as he wrapped his arms around Rhett’s waist.

 

They got dressed and rode the elevator down to the parking lot. A sadness took over them as they knew they’d be apart for the next ten days. 

 

They drove back to the office in silence, both wishing that they could just spend the Christmas holidays in bed together.

 

Link pulled up beside Rhett’s car and got out of his own to say goodbye. 

 

“Maybe I could ca-” Link began as Rhett fished his car keys out of his coat pocket.

 

“Mama’s old fashioned,” Rhett interjected sullenly. “No phone on the farm.”

 

“Oh…” Link replied.

 

“I’ll miss you,” Rhett said with tears in his eyes.

 

Link wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tight. “When you get back I want to take you out. On a real date. Would you like that?”

 

“Yes sir. But only if we can go back to your place afterwards,” Rhett winked.

 

Link shook his head and laughed, “okay, go on. Get outta here.”

 

Rhett gave a brave smile and opened his car door and slid in. He rolled down the window. “Merry Christmas, sir.” 

 

Link stuck his head in the open window and kissed Rhett again, “Merry Christmas,” he said as he pulled away. Rhett turned on the engine and Link knocked three times on the roof of the car as Rhett rolled up the window. Rhett waved as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving his boss behind. 

 

The snow began to fall in big fluffy flakes. Despite the cold Rhett felt full of warmth and joy as he headed home to pack and spend the holidays with his mama. Somehow he’d managed to get everything he’d ever wanted.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mind the tags, i've added some. thanks to like-a-wild-potato for betaing

Link spent Christmas break alone. He didn’t have any family left, and he was used to spending the holidays by himself. Usually he didn’t mind; he enjoyed the quiet solitude.But this year was different. He missed Rhett. Now that they’d finally slept together, he wanted nothing more than to have him all the time. He replayed the night of the Christmas party over and over in his head, every touch and lick. He fantasized about all the new and exciting things he could do to Rhett, both in and out of the office. He was especially keen to use the riding crop he’d been gifted.

 

He filled some of his days off working in the quiet empty office. A handyman came by and installed a deadbolt and some soundproofing. He didn’t ask any questions, and Link paid him handsomely for his discretion. Link also made some domestic changes in anticipation of Rhett’s return. He cleaned his apartment top to bottom so it would be perfect when Rhett returned. He even cleared out some space in his closet and wardrobe with the hopes that Rhett would leave some things at his apartment. The biggest change he made was selling his beloved Datsun for a roomier Chevelle. If Rhett was going to be in his life, Link couldn’t drive him around in a car with no leg room.

 

He spent New Year’s Eve alone. He’d been invited to a party by an acquaintance but  was happy to curl up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of scotch and ring in 1975 with Dick Clark, Chicago, The Beach Boys and Olivia Newton-John. He wondered where he would be this time next year. If Rhett would be curled up beside him as they watched the ball drop. Or if they’d be at some party. Better yet, he wondered if they’d be too tied up in the bedroom to even care that the world was ringing in a new year. He smiled as the countdown began. 1975 was going to be different. He was going to have someone to share it with. 

 

January 6th, he leapt out of bed, excited to head into the office to see Rhett. He’d made a reservation at a nice steak house for dinner and had bought a new dark brown three-piece suit for the occasion. He got out of the shower and shaved his face, wipingthe steam off the mirror and checking himself out. He wasn’t wholly unattractive. He knew he was no Burt Reynolds, but if someone like Rhett could find him attractive he figured he couldn’t be that bad looking. 

 

He got into his new cocoa brown Chevelle,inhaling the new car smell as he turned the ignition. He couldn’t help but smile when  _ What a Man My Man Is  _ by Lynn Anderson came over the country radio station.

 

He sang along to the radio and kept time drumming a beat on the leather steering wheel as he pulled intro traffic. 

 

_ Goodbye blues, I'm not gonna sing you no more _

_ I finally got my hands on what I've been looking for _

_ I've found me a man that knows how to keep me eatin' from the palm of his hand _

_ Talk about sunshine, I've got the sunshine man _

 

He shook his head. Rhett really was his sunshine man. All golden and beautiful. He had no idea how he got so goddamned lucky. Never in a million years did he ever though he’d date a man. Sure, he found the odd guy attractive, but dating women had always been fine by him. But now he had a... lover? Boyfriend?  It didn’t really matter what they called it. Just that Link was happy for the first time in a very long time. Rhett had opened up something in him. Channeled all of his anger into something productive. And damn if Rhett didn’t look beautiful when he was blissed out and bruised by Link’s hand. He whistled along as he drove into work and by the time he pulled into his parking spot, he was grinning ear to ear.

 

As he ascended in the elevator, his stomach was full of butterflies. The doors opened. “Good morning, Stevie!” he said brightly, greeting his employee as he made his way to his office.

 

“No, wait!” Stevie called out, but it was too late.

 

Link stood in front of Rhett’s desk, mouth agape at the petite blonde woman sitting in his chair.

 

“Who are you?” he bellowed.

 

“Hello Mr. Neal. I’m Jen,  your new secretary. The agency sent me over.” The young woman stood, smoothed out her yellow shift dress and adjusted her white cardigan nervously. 

 

“STEVIE!” Link yelled so loud it felt like every window in the building might shatter. Stevie, already at his side, took him by the arm and pulled him into his office. 

 

Link paced back and forth, leaving a trench on the shag carpet. His hands shook. He felt hot, like a kettle about to burst, but also freezing cold. His head was swimming.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on. I showed up this morning and Jennifer was here. I have a call into the agency to see what’s up.”

 

“What if he got hurt? Got in a crash or something?” Link said, his eyes brimmed with tears.

 

“Link, he came and cleaned out his desk…” she said softly.

 

“Oh… well, get him back Stevie, I need him. Please,” Link said.

 

“I’m trying. In the meantime, please be nice to that poor girl out there.”

 

“I don’t want her! I want Rhett!”

 

“I know, Link,” she said with a kind hand on his arm. “It will be okay. Sit down; I’ll bring you some coffee.”

 

Link collapsed on the sofa. Maybe his fears were right. Maybe Rhett had come to his senses about being with him. Maybe he just cashed the cheque and moved on with his life. 

 

A few hours later there was a knock on his door. He still hadn’t moved from the sofa, and the coffee Stevie had brought him earlier had gone cold and untouched. “Yes?” he said as he sat upright. Stevie entered with an especially soft expression on her face. He knew the news couldn’t be good. She sat on the sofa beside him and took his hands in hers. 

 

“Link, he’s gone. The agency said his contract was terminated and he no longer works for them. The woman who had our file got married over the holidays and her replacement doesn’t know any details. Just that his file has been closed. I tried to call him but his phone number has been disconnected. I don’t have any other way to reach him. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. To be honest, I’m a bit hurt as well. I considered him a friend. If he had been unhappy, I wish he would have told me.”

 

Fat tears began to fall from Link’s eyes. He removed his glasses and fell into Stevie’s chest, dampening her blouse with his tears. Stevie kindly stroked his head and held him. 

 

“You loved him, didn’t you?” she asked quietly. He nodded, his hands gripping tightly around her.

 

The pair stayed that way for a while. Eventually Link sat up, wiped his eyes, and sighed. “Reschedule my meeting for this afternoon. I’m going to his apartment.”

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

 

“I need answers, Stevie. He said he wanted to be with me. That we could make this work. I need to know why.”

 

“And what answer could he possibly give that would make you feel any better?”

 

“I don’t know. That he’s a con artist? That he only slept with me because I gave him five grand?”

 

“Jesus, Link. You gave him five thousand dollars?!”

 

“I just... I need to know.” Link grabbed his car keys and ran out of the office. 

 

He drove fast down the side streets towards Rhett’s apartment. As he pulled up, he felt like he might be sick. How could Rhett do this to him? He took a deep breath and rang the buzzer for Rhett’s apartment. The door clicked open, and he made his way up to the second floor unit. He knocked on the door, which swung open to reveal an empty apartment and a tall middle-aged man. Link stared at him with a confused look on his face. 

 

“Hey man, you here to rent the unit?” the man asked him. 

 

“Rhett? Uh, where’s Rhett?” Link stammered. He looked around the empty apartment, trying to make sense of the missing furniture. 

 

“Oh, he moved out on New Years Eve. Only gave me a days notice but paid an extra month’s rent. You a friend of his?” 

 

“Something like that… did he leave a forwarding address or any other contact information?”

 

“No. Sorry, man.” 

 

Link felt like his blood was hot and burning as it coursed through his veins. He didn't even know what he was doing. It was only after he felt the sharp searing pain and saw the gaping hole in the foyer wall that he realized he’d punched the wall so hard that he broke through the sheet rock.

 

“What the fuck, man?!” the landlord said, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“Sorry,” Link murmured as he pulled out his wallet and threw a hundred dollar bill on the floor to cover the damage and sheepishly left the apartment. 

 

He drove around for a while. Driving always helped calm him down. The open road, music loud and drowning out his thoughts. Eventually he ran out of places he could think of to drive. He went back to work and locked himself in his office with a bottle of scotch. Eventually he passed out cold on the sofa. By the time he woke up, it was dark outside, and the office was empty. He sighed and drove home where he dove into another bottle and poured himself into bed.

 

The rest of the week, he didn’t go into work. He woke up and drank until he passed out and repeated the process over and over again. He just couldn’t deal with feeling right now. He needed to feel numb. 

 

Friday his phone rang. “Hello?” he groggily answered.

 

“Hey buddy,” Stevie said sweetly. 

 

“What do you want, Stevie,” he asked taking a swig of liquor.

 

“You gotta get back to work, man. I’ve done my best. I told the partners you had a family emergency, but they’re starting to ask questions. You need to show your face around the office. Please. You have that meeting next week… ”

 

“I’ll be in Monday for the meeting,” he said, slamming the receiver down.

 

Monday he emerged from a weekend of binge drinking, looking and feeling like death. He had dark black circles under his eyes and a thick coating on his dry tongue. As he drove into work, he contemplated driving his car into oncoming traffic and ending it right then and there. _ It’s not like anyone would miss you _ , he thought. But his hands betrayed him and wouldn’t crank the steering wheel. Muscle memory took over and steered him to the office.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Neal. Is there anything I can do for you?” Jen asked as he stomped past her desk, slamming the door in her face. 

 

Before she even knocked, Link knew Lizzie was outside his door. A cloud of pungent cigarette smoke preceded her wherever she went. The door opened, and she stepped into his office. 

 

“Link,” she said, puffing on a long slim cigarette. “How _ are  _ you? I’ve heard you had some family trouble,” she said with mock concern. “It would be a shame if you were neglecting your duties here. Although I’m sure the partners have s _ omeone _ they could readily fill your place with.” 

 

“What do you want, Lizzie,” Link said smoothing his hair back.

 

“Just wanted to check on you, silly! Man, you don’t look good. Maybe you should take more time off.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love that. Quit trying to steal my job. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Whatever you say,  _ sir _ ,” she said cooly.

 

“What did you call me?” Link said his skin burning with rage.

 

“What? Oh, sir? Well you’re my superior ,aren’t you?” she said unable to hide her smirk.

 

“Don’t you ever EVER call me that again,” Link said, practically spitting in her face.

 

“Man, I guess someone’s missing his little boytoy. It’s a shame he left. I’ll miss having some eye candy around the office. Although, it was kind of a turn off how much he kissed your ass.”

 

Link hovered over her intimidatingly, using his height to his advantage.“You get the hell out of my office, Lizzie.”

 

Link’s intercom cracked and buzzed. “Mr. Neal, Mr. Feldman is here to see you,” Jen said nervously.

 

Link sighed and walked over to the desk. He pressed the intercom button. “Send him in, and I guess you’d better make yourself useful and take notes.”

 

“Toodles, Neal,” Lizzie said with a wave of her cigarette as she opened the office door.

 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty creature,” Feldman said to Lizzie as he and Jen entered the office.

 

“Oh, you,” she giggled with an affected flirty tone. “Lizzie Bassett, junior partner,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

 

“Mike Feldman, owner of Central Plaza,” he said as he raised her hand to kiss it.

 

“Nice to meet you,” she said with hooded eyes. “I’ve done a lot of work on your building. I can’t wait until it’s… erected.”

 

“Hmmm, me neither,” Feldman said, still holding onto her hand.

 

“You’re excused, Lizzie,” Link said loudly.

 

Lizzie rolled her eyes, winked at Feldman and left the office. 

 

“Neal,” Feldman said shaking his hand. “You look like shit.”

 

“Yeah well, it’s been a rough year.”

 

“It’s the second week of January,” Feldman said, quizzically.

 

“I know,” Link replied as he made his way to the bar cart to pour them both a scotch. Jen took a seat in order to take notes.

 

The meeting went on. Feldman had more than one question Link couldn’t answer. And several times, he messed up figures. 

 

“What’s gotten into you, man?”

 

“Sorry. Family… tragedy,” Link responded, defeated.

 

“I really gotta ask,” Feldman said as he stood and helped himself to another drink. “What happened to Rhett? God, he was pretty.”

 

Jen put down her pad of paper and watched the two men with doe-eyed bewilderment.

 

“Don’t talk about him.”

 

“No, Neal, I really must know. Were you unable to satisfy him? A man like him has needs, Link. Needs a man like you could never meet.”

 

“Shut up, Feldman,” Link’s hands balled into fists as he tried to squash his anger.

 

“I knew you couldn’t handle him. You don’t have the finesse to train a man like him. A shame, too; he was so  _ eager _ to please _.  _ He probably grew bored of you. Found someone who could dominate him the way he wants… no…  _ needs _ .” 

 

Link stood and slammed his fists on the desk, “I said shut the  _ fuck _ up, Feldman!”

 

“Please tell me you at least got to fuck him. I mean, good God, he was gorgeous.”

 

Link took long strides across the room. Before he knew it Feldman had fallen to the floor, blood pouring out of his nose, evidently from meeting Link’s fist even though he couldn’t recall punching the man.

 

Link steadied himself on the wall. The sight of Feldman’s blood was making him queasy, and he slowly slid down the wall, slumped over.

 

Jen screamed at the sight of the two unconscious men and picked up the phone. “Yes I need an ambulance… or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to yell at me. i know i'm a horrible person for what i've done to them.


	18. Chapter 18

Link regained consciousness in the ambulance. A tall, blonde, bearded man was taking his vitals. “Rhett?” he asked groggily. 

 

“Mr. Neal, you’re on your way to Duke Raleigh Hospital. Do you know what the date is?” the paramedic asked as he inflated a cuff on Link’s arm.

 

“Yeah,” he said as he began to make sense of what was happening. “January 13th, 1974… I mean...‘75.”

 

“87 over 54,” the man said to his partner, releasing the pressure on the cuff. “You’re blood pressure is a little low. We’re going to admit you and keep an eye on your vitals for a few hours,” he said to Link.

 

“No… it’s okay; I just fainted. You see, I’m no good with blood. But, hey, you should see the other guy,” he said with aa weak smile.

 

“I saw him. Did you rough him up? Looks like he has a broken nose and eye socket. He must have really pissed you off. Either way, I want you to be checked over. No arguments, alright?” he said with a gentle hand on Link’s leg.

 

“Fine,” Link said as the ambulance pulled into the hospital. 

 

A few hours later, his blood pressure had returned to normal. The doctor checked him over, and he had no concussion. He was, however, dehydrated from his week of binge drinking. A bag of IV fluids later, he was cleared to go.

 

Link left the hospital and wandered out into the cold January night. He was thankful that someone had had the forethought to send his coat and scarf in the ambulance. Downtown Raleigh was still lit up with twinkling Christmas lights, but the holidays had come and gone, and he was not feeling the festive atmosphere.  

 

His car was back at the office, miles away. He could have hailed a taxi, but he decided to walk. He needed to clear his head, and the click of his loafers on the sidewalk had a comforting, meditative  quality.

 

He wondered if Feldman would press charges. If he’d lose his job or worse.  _ Could you go to jail for punching a jackass in the face? _ he thought. _ Even if you were defending your gay ex-lover? _ “Hrrm.” he grumbled to himself. Like any judge in North Carolina would be sympathetic to his plight. 

 

He cut through a small park. It was eerily quiet, a faint dusting of snow covered the grass.. He pulled up the collar on his wool coat and tucked his scarf tighter. The cold was starting to get to him, and he walked at a clip through the snow covered paths of the park.  

 

From under a burnt-out street light came a voice. “Hey handsome, wanna party?” 

 

Link squinted at the male silhouette leaning against the street light. “What?” he asked.

 

A guy stepped out of the shadows into Link’s view. He was young, early twenties, with cropped black hair. He was shorter than Link, maybe 5’ 9” with a thick moustache and dark eyes. Link couldn’t help checking him out.

 

“No, man,” Link said as he shook off lusty thoughts about what he could do with him.

 

“You sure? Sexy daddy like you?” the man said with a wink.

 

“I’m good, thanks,” Link yelled over his shoulder as he walked faster.

 

“If you change your mind I’m headed to Maxxx’s. Down on St. Alban’s. The password is sassafras!”

 

“Yeah, thanks man,” Link replied. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck him or punch him, but either felt like a bad idea. 

 

Instead, he found his way into a pub on the other side of the park. He sat at the bar, picking through a bowl of peanuts. “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

 

“Glenlivet, neat,” Link replied as he popped another peanut into his mouth. The bartender was tall and handsome with a tidy haircut. Link couldn’t help but notice how the man’s grey t-shirt stretched across his athletic chest.

 

“Dollar-fifty,” the bartender said as he placed the drink in front of Link who handed him twenty and downed the scotch.

 

“Keep ‘em coming.”

 

A few drinks later, Link looked around the bar. There were a few old timers nursing beers, a group of college guys playing pool, a young couple in a booth in the corner. Nothing interesting. He turned his attention back to his drink. Another round later the door opened and a middle-aged woman walked in. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but Link wasn’t feeling particular. 

 

She sat down at the bar two seats away from Link. “Hey Tess! What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. 

 

“Hmm, think I’ll have a Manhattan. Thanks, Josh,” she said as she shrugged off her coat.

 

“I like your boots,” Link said to her after noticing her brown knee high boots. His eyes traveled up her legs to the orange wrap dress that hugged her curves and was cut low in the front, exposing some serious cleavage. “Can I pay for that drink?” he asked.

 

“Sure, handsome. Care to join me?” She grinned and pat the seat beside her. Link slid over. 

 

“I’m Charles,” he said, extending a hand.

 

“Tess,” she cooed. 

 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shithole like this?” he slurred slightly as he took a sip of scotch.

 

“Oh, rough day, I guess. Need to get out of my head for a while.”

 

By her familiarity with the bartender, Link figured drinking alone in this dive bar was likely an average night for her. 

 

“I hear that,” Link said and clinked his glass with hers. They both downed their drinks.

 

“We’ll have another round,” Link said to the bartender and winked at Tess.

 

She giggled and placed her hand on Link’s thigh. “Ya know, men don’t usually flirt with me.”

 

“Really? A gorgeous woman like you?”

 

“Oh stop!” she said, playfully slapping him on the shoulder.

 

“Wanna get outta here? Go back to my place?” he asked confidently.

 

“Ha! I’m easy, but I’m not that easy. Two drinks isn’t going to get me into bed, buddy.”

 

“What? You want me to pay you? I can do that. How much?”

 

“I’m not a fucking prostitute, asshole! I just meant maybe ask me on a goddamned date or something. Jesus.” she gathered her things and left the bar in a hurry.

 

“Whatever,” Link said as he swayed on his barstool.

 

“Think it’s time for you to go,” the bartender said as he put Link’s change on the bar. 

 

“Keep it,” Link said as he practically fell off the barstool. He steadied himself for a moment before slipping his coat on. He made his way to the door but stopped in front of the table with the young couple. He stood there for a moment staring at them. 

 

“Uh, can I help you?” the man asked.

 

“Just trying to figure out which one of you is going to up and leave the other one,” he slurred. “Probably her. She’s blonde. It’s always the blonde ones.”

 

“Alright, get out,” Josh said as he pushed Link towards exit. “You’re not welcome back here.”

 

“Good,” Link replied as he stumbled onto the sidewalk. Back on the street, he was disoriented and unsure which way to go, so he just picked a direction and started walking.

 

He ended up on St. Alban’s Drive and remembered the guy from the park. He saw a man dressed in black leather, and then another. He looked down an alley and saw more. His inhibitions lowered by the alcohol, he sighed and ducked down the alley. 

 

He needed something more. More than alcohol, more than an average-looking woman in an average-looking dress. He needed something hard and violent. He needed a pretty man on his knees obeying his every whim. 

 

A neon sign reading “Maxxx’s” illuminated the alley in red light. Link knocked on the heavy wooden door, and a small hatch opened. “Password?” a baritone voice asked through the opening.

 

“Uhhh. Sassafras,” Link replied.

 

The door swung open. “There’s a dress code. This is a leather bar. You should be wearing leather,” the man said as he eyed Link’s grey suit.

 

“Sorry,” Link replied nonchalantly. 

 

“Lucky for you it’s Monday night, and it’s pretty dead, so I’ll let you in,. But next time you come you’d better dress right. You’re gay at least, I hope?” the doorman asked, unsure what to make of the business man standing before him.

 

“Something like that,” Link said with a shrug.

 

He checked his coat and entered the main bar. The lights were dim, and loud rock music pumped out of the speakers, but no one was dancing. Purple spotlights illuminated the club, giving everything an eerie quality. A large bar ran across the back off the room while the dance floor contained what looked like various stations with people crowded around each one. Link went to the bar. They didn’t have his usual top shelf scotch, so he settled for a beer. He made his way to the first station closest to the bar. A man with beefy arms sat in a chair, a younger, smaller man draped over his lap in leather chaps, his bare ass exposed. Link recognized him; it was the man from the park. The larger man was spanking him with his thick hand while a few other men crowded around, cheering him on. His ass was red, and Link could hear his loud moans even over the music. “Daddy’s gotta punish you for being a bad boy,” the larger man growled as he dolled out another wallop.

 

“Th-thank you, Daddy,” the younger man screeched as he took another strike.

 

The scene didn’t do much for Link. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s daddy. He didn’t want a bratty little boy; he wanted a big, confidant man who would submit to him, body and soul.

 

Link worked his way through the biggest crowd on the floor. Erected at the front of the room was a large, black, wooden X. A grey-haired man was artfully tying knots around a slim man with shaggy brown hair. The man being tied up was completely naked. He had a leather dog collar around his neck and cuffs around his wrists and ankles. His entire torso was bound tightly in knotted rope. Satisfied with his rope job, the other man, dressed in leather pants and a leather vest, clipped the naked man’s hands and feet to the ends of the X and secured the ring on his collar to a ring on the middle of the X. His ass was round and pale but was criss-crossed with silvery scars from past beatings. The man in leather pulled out a whip and began to whip his back. He teased him, letting the tails of the whip graze his flesh gently before cracking the whip again.

 

“You wanna be next?” a man asked as he lent over Link. He was at least 6’4” and utterly massive. Link gulped at his thick neck and excessively large biceps. He looked like he could break Link in half.

 

“What? Up there?” Link replied.

 

“Yeah, I’d like to tear you up real good. Take you in the bathroom after and fuck you senseless,” the man growled, hungrily in Link’s ear.

 

“No thanks. I dole out the punishments. I don’t take them,” Link said as he drained his beer.

 

“Hmph. Little thing like you. I could make you my bitch in no time,” the man said with a chuckle.

 

“Right…” Link said cooly as he turned and walked away from the X to a smaller group gathered around a table in a far off corner. A shaggy-haired blonde man laid out on the table, bare-chested and blindfolded. Another man was applying clothespins to his nipples and hairless chest. They were all attached with some sort of twine. It looked almost beautiful to Link, the way they were arranged on his body and how his skin puckered around the wood pegs. When the dom was satisfied with his handiwork, he teased the man on the table. He rubbed an ice cube between the pegs, causing his submissive to shiver.  Then he picked up a candle and dripped hot wax on the man’s chest. The man whimpered, his hard cock strained against his leather pants from all the teasing as the other man alternated between hot and cold. He grabbed the tail of the string that was connected to the clothespins and ripped them off in one fluid motion. The man on the table screamed.His body shook with pain and pleasure. The other man gently removed the blindfold, helped him up, and kissed him roughly as onlookers cheered. 

 

Through his drunken haze, Link thought about how pretty Rhett would look with his chest covered in clothes pegs. His fleshy chest pink and pinched under the wooden pins. His tiny nipples hard and begging to be clamped. How beautifully he would writhe and scream as Link ripped them off. How afterwards Link would kiss his wounds and hold him as he came down from endorphins crashing through his body. How he would thank Link with kisses, sweet at first, then hot as they trailed down his body and he sucked Link’s cock with doe-eyed gratitude. 

 

Then he remembered. Rhett was gone.  

 

He grabbed his coat and rushed out of Maxxx’s. He didn’t want to be in some leather bar. He didn’t want lusty, sweaty, anonymous sex with some guy in leather chaps looking to get high on pain. He wanted Rhett. 

 

The cold January air hit him like a ton of bricks, and before he knew it, he was hunched over in the alley, vomiting behind a dumpster. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gasped for breath. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. He found his way to the main street and hailed a cab back to the office. 

 

It took him a good five minutes to find the right key to open the security doors to the building, but eventually he found them, locked the door behind him, and made his way to his office. He checked the brass sunburst clock that hung over his bar cart. It was one in the morning. He collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep almost instantly.         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to @like-a-wild-potato for beta reading.


	19. Chapter 19

  
  


**Chapter 19**

 

At seven a.m., the sun shone through his office window directly into his face, and there was no hope of getting any more sleep. Not like he had gotten much rest anyway. His sleep was dreamless, but he felt even more exhausted than the night before. He got up and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. 

 

He looked in the mirror and was shocked by his reflection. He looked like shit. His hair was greasy; his eyes were puffy and dark. He was sweaty, and his throat hurt from sleeping in the dry office. He splashed some water on his face and wiped his armpits with a damp paper towel. His shirt was rumpled from sleeping in it, and he smoothed it out with damp hands, eventually giving up and re-tying his tie.

 

Stevie found Link hovered over the coffee maker, proding different buttons as he tried to get it humming.

 

“Here, I got it,” she said kindly.

 

“Thanks,” he said wearily.

 

“What happened to you? You look like awful! I hear you decked Feldman. I don’t blame you; he’s such an asshole. Always tries to get up my skirt anytime he’s in for a meeting,” she said as she filled the basket with coffee grounds and flicked on the switch.

 

“Yeah, he said some things I didn’t find too agreeable,” Link muttered.

 

“I don’t want to stress you out, but the partners are coming in today to meet with you. They aren’t too happy you beat up one of our biggest clients,” she said as she pulled two mugs down from the cupboard.

 

“Yeah, I figured,” Link replied as he ran a hand through his greasy hair.

 

“Jesus, you smell like a distillery. Are those the same clothes you were in yesterday?” she asked as she fixed their coffees.

 

“I slept here last night.” He swayed, grasping the counter to steady himself. 

 

“Alright,” she sighed. “Give me the keys to your apartment. You go sleep it off in your office. I’ll go to your place and get you some fresh clothes. You can’t face the partners looking like this.”

 

“Thanks, Stevie,” he said with a weak smile.

 

A while later, Stevie pushed open his office door with a garment bag slung over her shoulder and a bag full of toiletries. She gently shook Link awake. “Drink this,” she said, handing him a small paper cup.

 

“Oh gosh,” he said taking a swig. “Why is this tiny coffee so bitter?”

 

“It’s espresso. It’ll knock the hangover right out of you,” she said with a grin.

 

“Ugh. It’s awful,” he said, draining the cup.

 

“Okay, first let’s fix your hair,” she said as she sprayed Batiste in his greasy hair and worked it through with her fingers. Even though Stevie was nothing more than a friend, his eyes still rolled back slightly at the feeling of her nails working the dry shampoo into his scalp. 

 

“Here’s deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, and mints. I brought your powder blue suit, the gold tie and a clean shirt, underwear and socks.” She gave him a weary smile.

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.

 

“Believe it or not, I like working for you. You’re one of the only people here who really knows who I am. I want you around,” she said with a wink as she left the office. 

 

He still was a wreck, but if he had any chance of saving his job, it was thanks to Stevie’s kindness.

 

Link sat at his desk and tried to calm down as he was about to meet his fate with the partners. Surely if he got fired, he could get another job. He was one of the most talented engineers in Raleigh. Of course, it was a small community, and word traveled fast in engineering circles. What firm would ever take him on after the news got out that he couldn’t hack it as partner and had put one of their biggest clients in the hospital? He sighed and hung his head.

 

His intercom crackled. “Mr. Neal, you’re wanted in the boardroom,” Jennifer said timidly over the speaker.

 

He held down the button for a few seconds. Crackly white noise hummed over the speaker. “Fine,” he replied.

 

It was just a few feet from his office to the boardroom, but the hallway may as well have been miles. Finally, he opened the frosted glass door to the boardroom. Benson and McLasky sat around the oval table and nodded as he entered.

 

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Link said as he took a seat in the mustard-coloured conference chair. 

 

“We’re waiting on two more,” Benson said.

 

Link saw her red oval nails peek through the door before Lizzie entered. 

 

“No!” he exclaimed. “I don’t want her here!” His face was red and hot. Why were they including some junior partner underling in this meeting, and of all people why  _ her _ ?

 

“Calm down, Linky,” she said smugly as she held the door open.

 

Feldman entered behind her and checked out her ass as he walked past her. He had a brace on his nose and a black eye. Link couldn’t help but smirk at how rough he looked.

 

Benson and McLasky shook Feldman’s hand and motioned for him to sit down beside Lizzie.

 

“Well, Neal,” Feldman said as he took a sip of water. “Lucky for you I ran into this beautiful creature when I returned from the hospital to BM&N to get my briefcase,” he said, nodding at Lizzie. “Thanks to her silver tongue, I’ve decided not to press charges.”

 

Link let out a shaky exhale.

 

“I was about ready to find a different firm to take over the Centre Plaza Project, but Ms. Bassett agreed to go to dinner with me, which was very kind of her given how my face looks at the moment,” he grinned at Lizzie and then winced as his bandage stretched around his bruised nose. “She convinced me to stay. But I have two provisions.”

 

“Yes! Anything!” Benson said, a little too eagerly.

 

“I want Neal to have nothing to do with this project.”

 

“Done,” McLasky said

 

“-and I want you to make Lizzie a partner.”

 

The room sat in silence for a moment as McLasky and Benson whispered a few words back and forth. Benson sadly nodded  _ yes. _

“Alright, we don’t have the ability to take on another partner. But given the situation, we’ve made a decision.” McLasky stood and paced around the room.

 

“Ms. Basset, you’ve shown ambition and moxie. For that, we’ve decided to give you Neal’s position as partner,” he said as he reached out to shake her hand. 

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Link said as he slammed his fists on the table. “After all I’ve done for you? After all the hours I’ve put in here, after all the things I’ve lost for you?! You’re just going to fire me? That’s it? Thanks for years of your fucking life Neal!” his voice was strained and hoarse.

 

“Goddammit, calm down. You aren’t being fired. You are being demoted,” McLasky explained. “You beat up a client! A very important client! You’re lucky he isn’t going to press charges! The only reason you aren’t being fired is that Stevie pleaded we go easy on you. Told us you’ve been going through a family emergency and are having a tough time. We’ll reassess your position in six months, but you’d better keep your head down and get to work. No more distractions. No more bullshit.”

 

“Fine,” Link said as he slumped down in his chair. He was tired. Tired of trying, tired of giving a crap. 

 

“If I could have your keys, Neal, I’ll have Jenny help move you into my old office. It’s a pity you’ll be losing yours. The view is so nice.” She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “I hope you won’t find my old office too dreary. Having no windows is a bit of a downer, but at least it’s close to the water cooler. The best place to overhear all the gossip.” She gave him a Pan Am smile as she outstretched her palm, expectantly awaiting his keys. 

 

Link pried the keys off his keychain and slammed then down on the table. She scooped up the keys and left the boardroom, beaming.

 

“Oh, Miss Bassett,” Feldman said with a smarmy grin, “can I take you out for dinner to celebrate?”

 

“Yes sir,” she giggled, as he looked her up and down.

 

Link rolled his eyes and got up to leave. 

 

“Not so fast, Neal,” Feldman said. “Gentlemen, if we could have the room I have a few words for Link, here,” he said to Benson and McLasky.

 

The partners nodded and gave the room to Link and Feldman.

 

“Well, what do you want now that you’ve ruined my life?” Link asked.

 

“Hmph—I took mercy on you. I could have had you fired, could have pressed charges. But I know you. I know being stuck in some tiny windowless office, listening to people whisper about you, that’ll break you. Now there’s one more thing. I want you to thank me.”

 

“You want me to  _ thank you _ ?!” Link scoffed.

 

Feldman stood and walked slowly around the boardroom table to him. He held Link’s jaw firmly in his big hand and angled his neck upward sharply to meet his gaze.

 

“Yes. I want you to say thank you _. _ ” 

 

Link gupled. He supposed the minor humiliation was better than losing his job, or worse. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

 

“Thank you,  _ what _ ?” Feldman said as his grip tightened on Link’s jaw.

 

“Thank you,  _ sir _ ,” Link said, practically spitting out the honorific.

 

“That’s right,” Feldman said as he let Link’s face go. “Now, I’d better get ready for my dinner with your new boss, Miss Bassett. Poor girl doesn’t even know what I have in store for her,” he said with a chuckle as he left the boardroom.

 

Link took a few moments to gather himself. He couldn’t fathom how things had gone south so quickly. He’d lost Rhett. He’d lost everything. 

 

He regained his composure and walked back to his office. Jen was boxing up his stuff and stacking it by her desk. 

 

“Okay,” he said as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Bring those boxes down the hall to my new office, I guess.”

 

“Um. I’m sorry, Mr. Neal, but I’m Miss Bassett’s secretary now. Not yours.” She looked like she wished she could drop dead right then and there rather than deal with the awkwardness of the situation.

 

“...right.” he said as he lifted a box up and carried it to his new tiny windowless office. He closed the door and sat at his small desk. Finally, for the first time since Rhett up and left, he let himself cry. It was a few tears at first but soon he was gasping for breath, hyperventilating and shaky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for all the feelings. the smut will resume in due time. thanks to like-a-wild-potato for beta reading!


	20. Chapter 20

Link’s knee bounced impatiently as he ran down the last few minutes before five PM. It had taken a few weeks for the whispers and rumours to die down around his sudden demotion. He stowed away in his small, windowless office and worked. Eventually things reached a new sort of normal. Long gone was the ambitious, workaholic Neal. He arrived and Benson, McLaskly and Bassett at nine AM, not a second earlier; and left at five PM on the button. He’d given years of his life to the company and if they were going to demote him to a Junior Partner then he wasn’t going to give them a second more of his time than they deserved.

 

He has successfully avoided contact with anyone that day, and it was a relief to not have to pretend to care about work or co-worker’s inane chatter. He sighed when he got to the elevator and Stevie was already there, impatiently hitting the down button. 

 

“You’re in a rush to get out of here. That’s not like you,” he said.

 

She leaned in and whispered, “I have to get home; want to surprise Cassie with a special dinner.”

 

“What’s the occasion?” he said, adjusting his glasses.

 

“It’s uh… Valentine’s Day,” she winced as the words left her lips.

 

“Oh… right…”

 

The pair stood in awkward silence as the elevator doors opened and they rode down to the ground floor. “Enjoy your, umm, dinner.” Link said as he brisky exited the building.

 

He got in his Chevelle and turned on the ignition. “This one goes out to all the lovers out there this Valent-” 

 

Link punched the radio button, silencing the overly cheerful disc jockey. He drove home scowling out his car window. Reminders of his loneliness met him everywhere he looked. A cute petite woman in a red wool overcoat and matching beret walking arm and arm with a young man. A middle-aged man carrying a giant bouquet of roses, presumably for his wife. Happy people everywhere.

 

He sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. His grocery list had become woefully predictable. Every week he bought the same thing: Several TV dinners, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and three bottles of bourbon. Long gone were the days of top shelf scotch; his salary was less than half of what it had been as partner. But he wanted to get drunk, to numb the pain as quickly as cheaply as possible, and Jim Beam would work in a pinch.

 

He queued up at the cash register. The usual lady was there to ring him up. She was in her fifties, a little bit surly but knew all the regulars. She had an oversized pink heart pinned to the chest of  her green cashier's smock. She smiled when she saw Link. “I could set my watch to your order. Same groceries every week, same day and time you come into the store. I swear!” 

 

“I guess,” Link mumbled.

 

“Handsome fella like you has no plans on Valentine’s Day? That’s hard to believe,” she said as she shook open a paper bag and placed his groceries inside.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m just not feeling it this year,” he said as he handed her a twenty-dollar bill.

 

“Well don’t give up! There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” she said as she handed him his change.

 

“Hrm, yeah,” he said as he picked up his groceries and walked back to his car.

 

The drive home from the grocery store was only a few blocks, but he was practically itching to get into his apartment. To sit in the dark and shut out the world. His hands shook as he fumbled with his keys to open the door. He closed it behind him and let out a long slow sigh.

 

His apartment was a mess. He hadn’t cleaned since Rhett’s disappearance. Everything was dusty; there were piles of food wrappers and empty bottles everywhere. His sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. Normally he was precise and verging on obsessively clean, but he just didn’t care anymore. What point was there to have a nice home if he had no one to share it with? His savings were quickly dwindling, too, and he wondered on his reduced salary if he’d even be able to keep his penthouse apartment or if he’d have to sell it and move somewhere more affordable. 

 

He poured himself a glass of bourbon, put away his groceries, and threw a TV dinner in the oven. He poured himself another glass and brought the bottle with him to the living room where he flicked on the television. Some sitcom was on; he didn’t even really know what it was about, but it was background noise that helped him feel a little less alone as he drank and ate his TV dinner. 

 

He hadn’t even looked at the flavour when he’d grabbed them from the frozen food section. Now he stared down his Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and mixed peas and carrots. It was all mushy, bland, and overly salty. For a second his mind wandered to the spaghetti dinner Rhett had made him and how beautifully balanced it was: slightly acidic, slightly sweet, bright and full of life. He willed the memory away with another glass of bourbon. Eventually he passed out on the couch, his dinner half-eaten.

 

He carried on like this well into the spring. He did the bare minimum at work, came home to a bottle, passed out on the sofa, and then got up the next morning to do it all over again.  Eventually the pain lessened. Most of the time he felt like he was underwater, senses dull and, heavy, but the sharp, stabbing heartache had mostly subsided. 

 

He sat at his desk and tried to find the motivation to bring his blueprints to Lizzie. It was humiliating having to go to her office which used to belong to him to have her approve his work. He drained his cup of coffee and took a deep breath before opening his door to face the noise of the office. 

 

He stood at Jen’s desk, his fingers pressed into the melamine desk top as she rang through to Lizzie. “Mr. Neal is here to see you,” she said as she gave him an awkward smile. 

 

“Send him in, but tell him to make it snappy. I don’t have much time,” she barked over the intercom.

 

Link opened the door to find Lizzie hunched over her desk. She looked exhausted and maybe like she’d been crying.

 

“Uhh, I have those blueprints you asked for,” he said motioning to the rolled up papers in his hand.

 

“Put them on the drafting table,” she said without looking up from her paperwork.

 

“You alright?” he asked. He hated himself for caring but she was obviously distraught.

 

“Link, how did you do this job? It’s insane. I feel like I live here. I don’t sleep. No wonder you could be such an ass. I’ve been doing this job for three months, and I’m about to burn out. It’s hell.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” Link mumbled.

 

Lizzie’s cuff shifted as she raised her hand to light a cigarette revealing a large dark bruise wrapped around her wrist.

 

“Did Feldman do that to you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She slid the cuff down to cover the bruise, her face painted with shame.

 

He sat down at the desk across from her. “Look. I know we’ve had our differences, and God knows I’m still mad as hell about you taking my job, but Feldman is an asshole and dangerous. I don’t know what promises he’s made you, but trust me, he’ll get bored of you and find someone else to add to his collection. It’s what he does.”

 

“What do you mean?” she sniffed, holding back tears.

 

“Contact his old assistant, Micha. He’ll tell you who he really is.”

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she askedwith a shy smile.

 

“I guess, in a way…you remind me a lot of myself. Ambitious, cutthroat, driven. I was all those things when I started here, when I became partner. I know what it’s like.”

 

She reached across the desk and squeezed his hand, “Thanks Neal.”

 

“Alright, back to my cave,” he said as he got up and return to his office. 

 

Part of him was happy to see Lizzie suffering under the punishing workload. That maybe she couldn’t cut it as partner. But he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t want to see anyone manipulated by that awful man, even his nemesis. 

 

The next day Stevie entered Link’s office.“I’ve got an assignment for you,” she said.

 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he replied with a smirk.

 

“We need interns for the summer. You need to go to the nearby universities and talk to the graduating engineering students, find a few bright students to hire.”

 

“Why do I have to do it?” Link moaned.

 

“Lizzie requested you specifically. Seemed to think it would be a nice treat for you to get out of the office.”

 

Link sighed. “When?”

 

“Your first stop is tomorrow.” 

 

“Where?”

 

“Let me see…” she said, scanning the schedule in her hand, “Campbell University.”

 

“Buies Creek?” he asked as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

 

“Here you go.” She handed him the schedule. “You’ll do great. There’s a little spiel here on the firm for you to say, and then a few points to go over, and then you can field questions and leave a sign up sheet for the department head.”

 

The next day he left the office at noon and drove down to Campbell University. The spring air was warm, and he rolled down the window of his Chevelle as he drove along the tobacco fields of Buies Creek. He couldn’t help but think about Rhett. He wondered if any of the farms he passed belonged to his family. He smiled sadly at the thought of young Rhett running through the fields, biking down gravel roads with his friends and taking a dip in the creek on a hot North Carolina summer day. 

 

The small private college had beautiful grounds. The entire campus was bursting with white dogwood flowers which signaled spring and the end of the semester. He reminisced about his own college experience as he saw fraternity brothers crossing the quad together, entering stately brick buildings as the clock chimed on the bell tower.

 

He entered the lecture hall and introduced himself to the professor who instructed him to take a seat in the first row. Students filed in and settled, and the professor began. He spoke eloquently about how this class of graduates would soon be entering the workforce and how important it was to make connections in the field in order to get a good job. 

 

“And on that note I’d like to introduce Charles Neal from Benson, McLasky and Bassett in Raleigh, who are scouting for their summer internship program. You’d be hard pressed to find a better firm in which to start your career.” Link shook the professor’s hand as he made his way to the podium. The lights were dim in the lecture hall. A sea of indistinguishable faces listened intently as he spoke about his firm, about the projects they were working on and what they expected of their interns. He opened up the floor for questions. The lights in the hall came up,and there, halfway up, staring straight at him and scowling, was Rhett.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Link cleared his throat awkwardly and kept his eyes locked on Rhett, who sat in the upper left section of the auditorium.

 

“Okay, let’s open the floor up to questions,” the professor said. “Yes-” he said, pointing to a young man in the third row with his hand raised.

 

“Hi, Mr. Neal, I was curious if there were any chance of the internship turning into a permanent position.”

 

“...What?” Link replied, obviously distracted.

 

“Umm… I was wondering if there, uh, was any chance of the internship turning into a permanent position…”

 

“Oh… possibly. If you really impress the partners I’m sure they would do what it takes to keep you on the team. We don’t want the best and brightest to _leave_ us, now do we?” he said, not breaking eye contact with Rhett who had raised his hand.

 

“Ah, Rhett. You should keep your eyes on this one, Neal. A little older than most of my students, but one of the brightest I’ve ever had. Yes, what’s your question?” the professor said, cheerfully.

 

Rhett hand lowered slowly and he silently stroked his beard before speaking. “Yeah… I thought it was Benson, McLasky and _Neal_. You get demoted or somethin’?”

 

Link’s brow furrowed and his eyes went stormy. He grabbed the edge of the lectern with a vice-like grip. How dare Rhett humiliate him like this in front of all these students. He shot Rhett a tiny smirk. “Yes. I used to be partner. The thing they don’t teach you in institutions of higher learning like this one, is no matter how big a jackass he is, you should never punch a multimillion dollar client in the face.”

 

Link gave the audience a winsome grin at the students stifled laughter.

 

“You… you punched a client?” the professor asked shocked.

 

“Yeah, he said some things about my _secretary_ that I didn’t take to kindly to,” Link said, still refusing to break eye contact with Rhett.

 

“Hrmph,” Rhett scoffed loudly.

 

“You don’t believe me, son?” Link asked.

 

“Like you would ever stand up for your _secretary_ ,” Rhett replied. “You probably _fired_ your secretary when you got what you wanted and the moved onto the next one. That’s your M.O., isn’t it? Fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em?”

 

“Mr. McLaughlin!” the professor exclaimed. 

 

Rhett got up from his seat and slung his black canvas backpack over one shoulder as he took the steps two at a time. 

 

Link stood in front of the class, his mouth agape, dumbfounded as Rhett stormed out of the room and the heavy metal door slammed behind him. 

 

“Oh…” Link whispered to himself, his eyes wide with realization. “Oh no…” he said as he hastily shoved his papers into his briefcase and took off after Rhett.

 

Link pushed through a hallway full of students. He could see Rhett, head and shoulders above the rest, a fair way down the hall already. Rhett hung a left and moved out of Link’s sight. Link began to panic, pushing rudely through the crowd. He rounded the same corner Rhett had moments earlier.

 

This hallway was significantly less busy, allowing Link to sprint down it. Eventually he closed the gap between them and grabbed Rhett’s arm to get his attention. “Rhett!” he said breathlessly. 

 

Rhett turned around quickly and slapped Link violently across the face.

 

Link dropped Rhett’s arm as his hand rushed to apply pressure to his cheek.

 

Rhett was vibrating with anger. He shoved Link against the white cinderblock wall and used his height to tower over Link menacingly.

 

“You know what?” he said, practically spitting in Link’s face. “ I wasn’t even _fucking_ surprised when I came back early from Christmas break to find a message on my machine from the agency that I’d been fired.” He backed off and began to pace back in front of Link who remained glued to the wall. “I thought I’d finally gotten through to you! I was going to show up at your place New Year’s Eve with a bottle of champagne. Y’know, start 1975 off right. But I guess after you _fucked_ me you were done. I’m just as disposable to you as everyone else. You are the most selfish, self-absorbed asshole I’ve ever met.” Rhett shook, his eyes bloodshot and glassy while Link calmly listened to him.

 

“Are you done?” Link asked softly. “Can I explain myself? If you never want to see me again that’s fine, but, please hear me out, Rhett.”

 

Taken aback by Link’s calm demeanor, Rhett bit his lip, holding back tears and nodded.

 

“I’m still piecing it together, but I think I understand what happened,” he began slowly. “Remember how I said the day you started at BM&N, I knew I was in trouble?”

 

“Yeah,” Rhett husked, emotionally exhausted, his voice hoarse from yelling.

 

“Well, on your first day I asked the agency to restaff you as soon as possible. It seems like it took months for that to happen. I screwed up, Rhett. I should have called them to cancel your termination. But I didn’t. That’s on me.”

 

Rhett’s shoulders relaxed and he unclenched his fists as he began to understand.

 

“When I came back from Christmas and you were gone, it seemed like you had quit. And I wasn’t surprised. Because who would want to be with me? You’re right. I’m a selfish asshole. I’m not a good person. But with you, I’m better. Or at least you make me want to try to be better. Because...well...I love you.”

 

“You- you do?” Rhett replied shakily.

 

“More than anything. The last three months have been hell for me. I can’t even imagine how bad they have been for you. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I-” Link’s voice cracked as tears began to streak his glasses.

 

Rhett pulled up his sleeve to reveal the gold ID bracelet still on his left wrist. “I love you, too. Much as I’ve hated you the last three months, I still couldn’t stop loving you.”

 

Link reached up and gently cupped Rhett’s jaw in his hand. “Will you take me back?” he asked softly, his eyes searching Rhett’s for an answer.

 

Rhett choked out a sob and nodded as Link pulled him into a sweet, soft kiss.

 

The pair stood their for a moment both crying and laughing, overwhelmed with the moment. 

 

“I gotta get to my next class,” Rhett said, checking his watch.

 

“Can I walk you?” Link asked as he cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief.

 

The pair walked silently side by side across the campus. A group of co-eds sunned themselves on the lawn while watching some fraternity guys play a game of touch football. 

 

“If you are willing to take me back I need to know what you need from me. I don’t want you to ever doubt me again,” Link said.

 

“I- I need you to hurt me, degrade and debase me, use me. You know exactly how to get under my skin, in a way no one else can. I love that about you. But I need you to lift me back up after you’ve broken me down. I need you to make me feel safe and loved. I need the light to make the dark darker and vice versa.”

 

“Can I see you tonight?” Link asked. “Come to the office? Eight p.m.?”

 

Rhett nodded with a grin. 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Rhett somehow managed to make it through his afternoon class. He was the first out the door the second it was over, and after a brief stop at home to shower and change, he was driving up I-40W, bound for Raleigh. He sped down the highway, grinning like a damn fool. After months of being heartbroken, he had his man back. He buzzed with nervous energy as he rode up the elevator to his former office. 

 

He took a deep breath before opening the glass door to Benson, McLasky and Bassett. The office was dark. He made his way to Link’s office and jiggled the handle, but it was locked. “...Hello?” he called out tentatively. 

 

“In here, Rhett.” His former boss's voice came from a smaller office down the hall. 

 

“Oh, right. I guess you moved offices,” he said with a grin as he leaned against the doorway of the small, dark office.

 

“You’d better use the facilities before we begin,” Link said as he rummaged through a duffle bag.

 

Rhett wasn’t sure what Link had in store for him, but he was excited and nervous. He relieved himself and looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He smoothed out his beard and fluffed up his hair. He dried his hands and took a deep breath to prepare himself before walking back to the office.

 

“You ready?” Link asked as he pushed his glasses up with his knuckle.

 

“Yeah,” Rhett growled as he crossed the room to Link.

 

Link grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him down for a rough, deep kiss. Link kissed him with bruising force, his tongue shoved into his mouth, pulling whimpers out of Rhett, who practically melted into him. Link pulled away, his arms still wrapped around Rhett’s waist. 

 

“You remember your safeword?” Link asked, his tone serious, his eyes dark and stormy. 

 

“Mhmm,” Rhett replied, kissing down Link’s neck.

 

Link pushed Rhett off and shoved him onto his knees.

 

“Wow… three months and you’ve already fallen into bad habits,” Link said as he paced around his kneeling lover. “It’s yes _ sir _ ,” Link said as he grabbed a handful of Rhett’s hair, jerking his head back.

 

“Yes sir,” Rhett whispered, desperately trying to hide the grin under his moustache.

 

“That’s more like it,” Link replied. He sat down in plush armchair in the corner, directly in front of Rhett. “Now strip.”

 

Rhett pulled off his denim jacket and threw it on the floor beside him.

 

“Slower,” Link replied as he leaned back and watched Rhett slowly unbutton his plaid shirt. He shrugged it off his shoulders and slowly rucked up the hem of his white t-shirt.

 

Link sighed at the sight of Rhett’s tiny belly. 

 

Rhett pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it in the pile with his other discarded clothes. He eyed Link hungrily as his hands slowly trailed down his chest to his waistband.

 

“May I stand to remove my pants, sir?” Rhett asked obediently as he undid his fly.

 

“Yes,” Link replied with his index finger pressed against his full lips.

 

Rhett rose slowly and slowly shimmied down his brown corduroy bell bottoms. His baby blue briefs were already tenting with his hardening cock. He gave it a squeeze and palmed it as he walked slowly over to Link. His cock bounced against the waistband as he pulled them down and stepped out of them into Link’s space. Rhett looked down at him with lust-filled, hooded eyes. “How can I…  _ please you _ , sir?” Rhett moaned.

 

Link’s breath hitched as he took in the beautiful naked man before him.

 

“Bend over the desk, Rhett,” he drawled slowly. 

 

Rhett walked over to the desk and laid his chest down obediently. 

 

Link knelt down beside Rhett. There were lengths of rope already tied to the legs of the desk, which Link secured around Rhett’s ankles. Then he went to the front of the desk and pulled rope from the front legs of the desk for Rhett’s wrists. Rhett stretched his arms out to the far corners of the desk for Link to attach the rope.

 

“No. Not like that,” Link said as he picked up one of Rhett’s arm and bent it across his back. Rhett did the same with the other arm so they were crossed behind him. Link then attached the rope to his wrists. Rhett squirmed a little. He didn’t have much range of motion. If he moved too far one way or another, his shoulder would pop out of its socket.  _ Leave it to an engineer _ , he thought.

 

Rhett heard Link walk behind the desk to the metal filing cabinet, which gave a loud  _ clink _ as it was slammed shut. Rhett’s entire body jolted as the riding crop he’d gifted Link for Christmas came down on the desk beside his face. Rhett shuddered as Link slowly trailed the whip from Rhett’s neck, down his spine. Rhett jerked as the whip came down on him, leaving little half moon-shaped welts on his ass. He started with small whimpers, but as the crop came down on previously-beaten areas, his whimpers turned into screams. The whip came down over and over in quick succession on Rhett’s back and ass. Again and again, he jolted as the crop made contact.

 

When Link was satisfied, he put the whip down on the desk beside Rhett. He trailed his fingernails over Rhett’s abused back and ass. He roughly grabbed Rhett’s ass cheeks in both hands. “Who does this belong to?” he asked, giving his lover's bruised ass a hard squeeze.

 

“You, sir,” Rhett replied, already damn near falling apart.

 

“That’s right,” Link replied and gave his ass a hard smack with his palm. 

 

Rhett heard the click of a bottle opening, and shortly after felt a cold slick finger gently circle his asshole.“Fuck,” he said with a breathy moan as Link’s finger prodded him open. Tied to the desk, he didn’t have much range of motion, but he tried his best to push back onto Link’s long slim finger. It wasn’t enough. He desperately needed more. Link applied more lube and pushed in again with a second finger. Rhett moaned as Link’s long fingers brushed against his prostate.

 

“Do you want me to  _ fuck _ you, Rhett?” Link asked as he picked up the speed, fucking into Rhett with his fingers.

 

“Y-yes sir,” he said.

 

Link bent over Rhett. “Beg me,” he growled into Rhett’s ear as he continued to finger-fuck him.

 

“Please, sir. Please fuck me, oh god!” Rhett’s breath hitched as he tried to get the words out. “Please. I need you so bad. I need your big hard cock in my tight—unff!” 

 

Link pulled his fingers out quickly, which took Rhett by surprise, but it was quickly followed by the sound of Link undoing his belt and fly and the sound of more lube being squeezed from the tube. Rhett could hear the wet sounds of Link stroking lube onto his cock.

 

Link grabbed Rhett’s hips and pushed into Rhett, who tightened around him. Link took long, slow thrusts, but once Rhett relaxed, he picked up the pace.  Rhett growled at the pain. Between the welts on his ass and the furious pace Link was fucking him, he felt lightning bolts of pain radiating through his body. Between the pain and pleasure, Rhett’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he practically drooled on the desk. Link held onto Rhett's wrists tied behind his back for leverage, and every thrust pulled on his restrained limbs. Rhett tried to buck his hips back into Link, to control the pace, but the way he was tied and with Link’s weight on top of him, it was pointless.  All he could do was lie there and be used. His cock was awkwardly trapped between his body and the desk as he leaked precome on Link’s green inkblotter. Link grabbed a fist full of Rhett’s hair, practically ripping it out of his scalp as he came, moaning hotly in Rhett’s ear. 

 

Link zipped up his pants and left the room, turning the light out as he left, leaving Rhett in the dark. Rhett heard the small click of a key in the office door and footsteps walking away.

 

_ Shit _ , he thought. The room had been plunged into total darkness. There were no windows, and it seemed like fabric had been placed on the outside of the door to block out any ambient light from the hallway. If there had been any electronics in the room, they must have been removed because there wasn’t so much as an “on” light on a damn electric pencil sharpener. The darkness was disorienting. The only thing Rhett could think of was his aching neglected cock. He hadn’t come and he ached for release. He tried to rub his cock on the desk, desperate for any sort of friction, but it was impossible. He sighed and tried to focus on his predicament.

 

It was around nine p.m. on Friday night. The worse-case scenario would be that Link would leave him there until early Monday morning before the work day began. The earliest employees showed up at seven. Knowing Link, he wouldn’t cut it that close. So Monday, six a.m. was probably the longest he’d have to endure this. Rhett calculated the time in his head.  _ Fifty-seven hours… fuck. _

 

He slowly clenched and released his toes, then circled each ankle, then raised each calf, stretching his legs. Then shifted his torso to one side and was able to flex and release his fingers and arms. He rolled his shoulders and neck. Naked and spread open tied to the desk, he realized how cold he was. He began to shiver. His teeth chattered as he tried to think warm thoughts. He spent what felt like hours clenching and releasing his muscles and trying to occupy his brain. He did math problems, recited pi to as many places as he could, tried to recite “O Captain! My Captain!” He tried to shut up the nagging voice that said  _ he’s never coming back _ .

 

He let out a deep guttural scream and slowly felt like he was floating away. Away from the desk, the office, from himself. He felt like he was underwater in the black void. He was nowhere, underwater or in outer space. Nothing really mattered, just that he didn’t exist anymore and how there was some peace in that thought. Somewhere in his periphery, he thought he heard footsteps outside the office, but all he could hear was his heart beating in his ears. How it pounded like a drum and then quieted. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. Was nothing.

  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

With a small _click_ Link turned the key in the lock and sealed Rhett in the dark room. He rolled up his coat and wedged it against the bottom of the door to block out any light from the office. Not that there was much; all the lights in the common areas were off aside from a small desk lamp he’d placed nearby to give him some semblance of his surroundings. He removed his shoes so they wouldn’t give his presence away, and he went to the breakroom across the hall to make a cup of coffee.

 

 _What a day_ , he thought to himself as he spooned sugar into his coffee and watched it dissolve into the hot black liquid. That morning he’d been a shell of a man, limping through life. But he’d found Rhett and gotten a second chance, and there was no way he was going to fuck things up this time. He was going to be the man Rhett deserved. 

 

After they had parted ways in Buies Creek, he’d rushed home and cleaned up his apartment. The first task was to dump the half empty bottle of bourbon down the sink. He didn’t need it anymore. He scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom, made up the bed with fresh sheets, he remembered how much joy he got from cleaning, from having a house he could be proud of, and how at ease he felt when everything was in its place. He packed up a few things in a duffel bag and made a quick stop at the hardware store before heading to the office. He got a funny look from a middle-aged lady as he wrapped different types of rope around his wrist and muttered _too scratchy_ and _hrm, too thin_ to himself. Finally he settled on a white braided cotton rope. It was thick and sturdy and seemed like it would hold knots well, but it wouldn’t be overly painful. Plus, the classic look of it appealed to Link. Just the thought of Rhett bound with it had him half hard in the hardware store. 

 

And now, he waited. 

 

What he was waiting for he wasn’t exactly sure. Of course Rhett could yell out _Belvedere_ and it would all be over, but he doubted that would happen. Truthfully, he just wanted to go home. Crawl into bed with Rhett and wake up the next morning, make sure it wasn’t all some beautiful dream. 

 

But this was what Rhett wanted. This was who Rhett needed him to be. Someone who could push Rhett to a point that he couldn’t bring himself to.

 

He checked his watch. It was ten p.m., roughly an hour since he’d left the room. He padded over to his office on sock feet and pressed his ear against the door. It was completely quiet. Link worried if Rhett was okay. He was contemplating opening the door when he heard Rhett speak. “3.1415926535...uhhh...8979323846 2643383…” Link pulled away and smiled, shaking his head. _Leave it to an engineer to recite pi,_ he thought and returned back to his coffee.

 

Link began to nod off. His head bobbed as he tried to stay awake, but it kept falling. All the coffee in the world couldn’t save him as he began to succumb to his exhaustion. 

 

A loud scream from his office immediately woke Link, and he was on his feet running to the door. His hands shook as he put the key in the lock. He wanted to burst through the door but instead took a breath to calm himself. He knew Rhett needed him to be soft and calm. He took another breath and slowly turned the key.

 

“Rhett,” he said softly. “I’m here. You’re safe.”  

 

The small amount of light pouring in from the hallway was barely enough to see by, but he was able to make his way to a small table lamp. “Rhett, I want you to close your eyes. This light isn’t very bright. Not as bad as the overhead lights, but I want you to close your eyes anyway.” Link could see Rhett’s eyelashes flutter closed. “Good Rhett, that’s good,” he said quietly as he turned on the light. 

 

Rhett was pale and shaky, his cheeks wet with tears. Link dug in his duffle bag and removed a fluffy white blanket and a pair of scissors. He knelt down beside the desk. “I’m going to cut the rope, stay still.” Rhett’s limbs shook as Link quickly cut the bonds free. He wrapped Rhett’s naked body in the blanket and gently guided them towards the large arm chair. Link sat down and pulled Rhett into his lap, wrapping the blanket tight around him. Rhett folded himself up into Link’s lap like a scared kitten. His fingers curled into Link’s collar as his head collapsed into his shoulder, and he began to cry. It started as just a few tears but soon he was full-on sobbing.

 

Link held him tighter. “You did so well, Rhett,” he said beaming with pride. “You are so strong and brave and so good for me,” he said as he rubbed small circles into Rhett’s back. “Come back, baby,” he whispered gently as he rocked the large man in his lap. “You’re safe. I love you.”

 

Rhett’s tears ceased and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “Can… can we go home?” 

 

“Of course,” Link said as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dried Rhett’s tears with it. 

 

Link somehow managed to maneuver himself out of the chair and deposited Rhett in it. He knelt on the floor and helped Rhett step into his underwear and jeans. Then he stood and helped Rhett put on his t-shirt. He slowly did up the buttons on Rhett’s plaid shirt. “You’re so beautiful, Rhett,” he said, in awe as he smoothed out Rhett’s shirt collar. He helped Rhett stand and did up the fly and button on his jeans and helped him into his jacket. “Sit back down for a bit Rhett, you’re still shaky and I need a minute to pack up this stuff. Do you want a glass of water? I-” 

 

“No! Don’t leave!” Rhett said, sitting up in the chair, panicked.

 

“It’s okay, Rhett,” he said, taking him by the hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He gave Rhett a grin, and Rhett settled back down into the plush upholstery. 

 

Link packed up the rope, the blanket, and the bottle of lube. He put the whip back in the filing cabinet and took another look around the room. “Okay, that’s it. Are you ready to go? We can stay here as long as you like.”

 

“I’m ready,” Rhett said as he stood from the chair. His first few steps were shaky, and Link looped his arm around his waist. 

 

“I’ve got you. Put your arm around my shoulder.” Link said and Rhett complied. 

 

They managed to make it out of the office to the parking lot. Link opened the passenger side door of his Chevelle and helped Rhett in. Before he could walk around to his side of the car, Rhett was fast asleep.

 

Link was concerned with Rhett’s state. Had he gone too far? Had he broken Rhett completely? He pulled into his condo parking lot and gently caressed Rhett’s cheek. “Rhett. We’re home, baby. C’mon.”

 

Rhett was still groggy but was able to walk on his own from the parking lot to the elevator. Link opened the door to his penthouse apartment, and the pair made their way to the bedroom.

 

“Sir?” Rhett asked quietly as he kicked off his shoes.

 

“Yes, Rhett?” Link replied as he hung up his suit in the closet.

 

“How long?” Rhett asked as he removed his shirt.

 

“How long, what?” Link replied as he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed.

 

“How long was I in there for? A day? It’s dark out, so I’m not sure…” Rhett joined him, his head resting comfortably on Link’s broad chest.

 

“Rhett, it’s still Friday night… well, I guess now early Saturday morning,” he said showing the face of his Rolex to Rhett. “It’s only a quarter past midnight. You were tied to the desk for just over two hours.

 

Rhett began to laugh. A small chuckle at first that grew into an all over ho-ho-ho laugh. “I swear I thought it was at least twelve hours.”

 

“Was it too much? Too far? Please tell me if it was. I promise I was right outside the entire time and came the second you screamed. Are you okay?”

 

“It was everything I’ve been chasing for so long but could never achieve. I got to this beautiful place of nothingness. It was just black and cold and void. I… I don’t know how to thank you. It was amazing. Maybe… maybe next time you could leave me there a little longer?” he said with a soft smile. 

 

Link wrapped his arms around Rhett’s naked chest and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Sure, baby. And no need for thanks. You pay me back and then some just by being mine. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Rhett said as he snuggled down into his master’s loving embrace.

 

********

 

 

The pair slept into the early afternoon. The last twenty-four hours had been exhausting for both of them, and a lazy Saturday was just what they both needed. 

 

Rhett stretched and sat up, his arms and legs still stiff, and let out a satisfied groan. Link swooped in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, sunshine,” Link said jovially as he guided a cup of coffee into Rhett’s hand.

 

“I thought I got you the coffee?” Rhett said with a raised eyebrow. He took a sip and was surprised Link had managed to pay attention to how he liked it, even though he was always the one to fetch coffee for both of them. 

 

“Not today,” Link said as he took the mug from Rhett and put it on the bedside table. “You were such a good boy last night, Rhett,” he cooed into Rhett’s ear. 

 

Rhett blushed and rubbed his arm shyly. Thank you, sir,” he replied, grinning under his moustache.

 

“As much as I punish you, I feel like you should also be rewarded for your good behaviour. Don’t you agree?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Rhett replied as Link gently pushed him down on the bed.

 

Link’s long fingers twined in Rhett’s hair as he kissed him. Sweetly at first, then harder with more heat as his tongue lapped at Rhett’s. Rhett moaned as Link gently pushed him onto his back and kissed down his chest.

 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” Link said between kisses. 

 

He nibbled playfully at Rhett’s nipples, which pulled sharp whimpers from Rhett as he threw an arm over his forehead. It was all overwhelming and wonderful.

 

Link kissed and licked down his belly. His hand grasped the base of Rhett’s cock, which was already rock hard and desperate. Link’s broad flat tongue licked Rhett from base to tip, and Rhett shivered at the hot sensation of Link’s tongue on him. Link changed position slightly and took Rhett into his mouth. He gagged slightly but adjusted again and was soon working Rhett with his hand and mouth. Rhett moaned loudly with every thrust. Link’s mouth was so warm and wet. It felt so good. Rhett couldn’t help but completely fall apart as Link worked him over. He came hard, thrusting into his lover’s mouth. Desperately, he grabbed Link and pulled him up into his lap, kissing him passionately. The kiss was hot and sloppy, Link’s mouth still full of Rhett’s come. Their tongues swirled it back and forth between them as Rhett reached down and to jerk Link off. He was already almost there, so turned on by going down on Rhett. It only took Rhett a few firm strokes until Link released over both of their bellies.

 

Rhett collapsed and pulled Link down with him. They lay there for a while, face-to-face, tracing patterns on each other's skin with lips and fingers. 

 

“I think we should buy a house when you graduate. This apartment is too small for us. What do you think?” Link asked.

 

“Mhmm, that would be nice,” Rhett replied. “Maybe in the country? Wouldn’t want the neighbours calling the police when they hear me screaming.”

 

“I could always gag you,” Link said with a grin.

 

“Promise?” Rhett said, kissing Link’s sharp collar bone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue coming sometime this week but this is the last chapter guys! I'm so sad it's almost.


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist for this fic! Enjoy. 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/12176694944/playlist/2Z3Vag7jWzN2UDYIG4dTES?si=w6Py5kruTSCyTHuwtbthqg

_ One Year Later _

Link’s new office was smaller than his old one, but he didn’t mind. He had parted ways with Benson, McLasky and Bassett and was much happier for it. He sat at his desk with a hot cup of coffee and the newspaper, his feet up on a footstool. He turned the page and looked at the stock prices. “Hrmm,” he grumbled to himself. His footstool moved slightly and Link dug the heel of his shiny brown leather dress shoe into the freckled hide of the stool which, in turn, let out a small groan and then settled. He let out a satisfied sigh as he took a swig of his coffee.

His intercom buzzed, and the voice of a young woman cracked over the speaker, “Mr. Jones here to see you.”

“Thanks, Becca. Get him set up in the conference room.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Neal.”

“You’re the best!”

Link switched off the intercom and folded up his newspaper. He sighed as he removed his feet from the freckled back they had been propped up on.

Rhett was naked aside from a dog collar with a tiny brass tag that read  _ Property of C.L. Neal _ . His arms and legs had been folded under his body as he acted as footstool for the past hour. It was what they always did before meeting with a new client. Link stood and reached out a hand to Rhett, helping him up. Rhett dressed himself, and Link helped him smooth out his shirt collar to cover the leather dog collar underneath. He tied Rhett’s paisley tie and made sure the collar was completely camouflaged.

The pair made their way to the door. Rhett bent down to open it but was intercepted by Link pulling him down for a kiss. Rhett smiled sweetly as they pulled apart.

“Hey,” Rhett said softly with adoring eyes. “Can we stop in Little Italy on the way home? I want to get the good Italian tomatoes there, not the grocery store ones.”

“Sure baby, anything you want,” Link replied with a loving squeeze around his waist.

The two men walked into the conference room as their secretary, Becca, was bringing in an carafe of coffee. Link grinned at her as she excused herself. “Hello Mr. Jones, Link Neal,” Link said, extending a hand to the client, “and this is my partner, Rhett McLaughlin,” Rhett reached out to shake his hand. “What engineering needs can McLaughlin and Neal tackle for you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That's all folks. Thank you so much for going on this epic journey with me. If you enjoyed it please leave me a comment! Also, check out my back catalog of fics. There's lots of good shit there.


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